When we are not running out after "specials" we are absorbed in the
mimic fight of Acacia Avenue--the desperate conflict between Mrs.
Studholm-Brown, of The Hollies, and Mrs. Dawburn-Jones, of Dulce Domum.
They have husbands, these amiable ladies, but the husbands are mainly
concerned with the commissariat and supply department, and are neither
allowed nor desired in the actual fighting line.
The very day the war began, a huge flagstaff with a Union Jack of
proportionate size rose in the grounds of Dulce Domum. It must have been
ordered in advance. I present this fact to the German Press Bureau as
showing that, at any rate, Mrs. Dawburn-Jones always intended war. But
the next day Mrs. Studholm-Brown went six feet better with a flagstaff
and three square yards better with a Union Jack.
Then we knew that it was war to the death in our Avenue and waited for
the next move in the campaign.
"The Hollies" broke out into Red Cross notices; "Dulce Domum" announced
itself to be the office for the organisation of local relief.
One morning we rose with a sort of idea that there was an eruption in
the air, and found the flags of Servia, France, Russia and Belgium
waving over "Dulce Domum." That day Mrs. Studholm-Brown met me in the
Avenue. She condescended to me. "Oh, could you tell me the colours of
the Montenegrin flag?" I couldn't; but it was the first time the great
lady had ever spoken to me. "Pink with green stripes," I replied
tremblingly.
The very next day seven Allied flags (including a pseudo-Montenegrin)
flew over "The Hollies." Mrs. Studholm-Brown had added Japan before the
MIKADO'S ultimatum had expired--which will prove to the German Press
Bureau that there was a secret understanding between our Far-Eastern
Ally and Mrs. Studholm-Brown.
But flags were not the only things that were flaunted. "Dulce Domum"
opened fire with an array of flannel shirts hung on clothes-lines across
the tennis-court. "The Hollies" replied with a deadly line of pyjamas.
Then the proprietress of the latter threw open her grounds--a croquet
court and a drying ground--as a place of rest for Territorials off duty.
Mrs. Dawburn-Jones promptly enlisted her husband as a special constable
and had squads drilled on her tennis lawn.
So the fight went on--with slight successes on both sides, but nothing
decisive--till one day when Mrs. Dawburn-Jones went to town in a taxi
and returned with a family of negroes from the Congo. It was a splendid
sight to see her leading them through the grounds and discoursing to
them in her best Boulognese. Mrs. Studholm-Brown wriggled with
mortification.
Then her chance of a counter-attack arrived. She had, or her husband
had, or her husband's brother-in-law had, a second cousin who was an
officer, and, what was more, a wounded officer. He was persuaded to
spend a week-end of his convalescence at "The Hollies." His hostess
walked him proudly up and down all the paths which were in full view of
"Dulce Domum." It was magnificent to see her adjust his sling. At that
moment I dare not have trusted Mrs. Dawburn-Jones with a gun or the
officer would have been in as great peril as in the trenches. How it
will end I can scarcely imagine. I like to picture a great day of
victory. Then, if the CROWN PRINCE be allowed to take up his abode on
_parole_, in some quiet suburban home, I am sure "The Hollies" will snap
him up. And if "The Hollies" secures the CROWN PRINCE no power in this
world can prevent Mrs. Dawburn-Jones from securing the KAISER.
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