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"You must have eyes like a French cat." The door was opened by Bittleson, and the three officers entered and walked along the dimly lit, tiled hall into a room at the far end. "Home, Sweet Home," said the Colonel looking around the room. "It is the nearest thing we can get to it anyway, worse luck."
Bittleson appeared. "Excuse me, Sir, Madame Deswaerts presents her compliments and says would the gentlemen please come down into the cellar till the aeroplanes pass over?" "All right Bittleson," agreed the Colonel, as they got up and strolled cellarwards.
This is more apparent when we know he is never savage but on the contrary very gentle." The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Bittleson, the Colonel's batman. Bittleson had been deposed from his position as cook two days before for being dirty and careless. He now came forward with his cap on his head and saluted as only Bittleson could salute.
"Beg pardon, Sir," he hesitated with a deprecatory smile, pointing with his thumb to the kitchen door, "but Rawson aint really up to cooking stuff like this here sparrow grass not yet. P'raps I had better take a holt." "All right," agreed the Colonel, "are you sure you know how to cook it yourself?" "Sure," answered Bittleson with an inflexion that spoke volumes as to his knowledge.
"Why when we was at Salisbury " "Shut up," commanded the Colonel and Bittleson respectfully saluted and retired. When the dinner was served we waded through our passable soup, tough roast beef with "frits" and waited with pleasant anticipation for the chef'd'oeuvre of the evening. The asparagus duly arrived and was placed on the table by Bittleson himself with something of a flourish.
Bittleson, Captain Rankin's batman, who happened to be looking out of the top window at the time, swore that the bomb which went through the roof beside him had grazed his forehead. The bomb which had failed to explode in the square was taken possession of by our staff sergeant and placed on my laboratory table as a souvenir.
"What the sam hill do you know about that!" said the disappointed Captain as all gazed at the plate full of white asparagus butts, as hard as tent pegs. The tender edible portions had been thrown away. The Colonel turned to Bittleson but the latter was too quick for him and had already made a strategic retreat. "What a mess-president?" said the Captain, "Eh, what, Doc.?"
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