they call them out here, right in the neck." She
waved the sheet she was reading and exclaimed, "And
then comes four lines so scrubbed about that even the
Old Gentleman himself couldn't read them! Still, it's
for that Alfred here is willing to pay----"

Her husband interrupted her furiously: "Put that
down at once! D'you hear, Polly? I'm the best judge
of what a thing's worth to me in my business. If I
give Mrs. Tippins seven-and-sixpence for her letters,
they're worth seven-and-sixpence to me and a bit over.
See? I shouldn't 'a thought it was necessary to tell
_you_ that!"

He turned to Anna, and said rapidly in German:
"The man who wrote these letters is a sergeant. He's
a very intelligent fellow. As you see, he writes quite
long letters, and there are a lot of little things that I
find it well worth my while to make a note of. In
fact, as I told you before, Frau Bauer, I am willing
to pay for the sight of any good long letter from the
British Front. I should much like to see some from
officers, and I prefer those that are censored -- I mean
blacked out like these. The military censors so far
are simple folk." He laughed, and Anna laughed too,
without quite knowing why. "I should have expected
that Major whose mother died just after the war
broke out, to be writing to your ladies. Has he not
done so yet?"

"The news has just come this very day, that he is
a prisoner; but they do not yet know where he is
imprisoned," said Anna eagerly.

"That is good news," observed her host genially.
"In spite of all my efforts, I could never obtain that
dratted Major's custom. But do not any of the

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