THE OFFICERS’ MESS.

Erk's Work, 1 February 1941, Page 24

THE OFFICERS’ MESS.

It was her first visit to the camp and she felt somewhat overawed when her stalwart son took her round and showed her the various buildings. The canteen, the gymn., H.Q., the dormitories were all visited in turn.

“That’s the Sergeant’s Mess,” the youth remarked casually, pointing a contemptuous thumb towards some curtained windows, in one of which a canary in a cage was singing lustily.

“Lumme,” Ma muttered, in round-eyed interest. “Mess?” she thought. “What’s that?”

“There’s the Officers’ Mess,” she was told a little later, and words failed her when she tried to grasp the apparent magnificence of the building. “A palace fit for a king,” was her mental comment, as they passed on. Suddenly, she grasped its meaning.

After being treated to tea in the Y.M.C.A., she bade her airman son good-bye and left for home.

Back once more in the old farm kitchen she prepared supper mechanically, her thoughts far away.

Suddenly she stopped and almost ran outside to the back, where she stopped and surveyed, with troubled gaze, a tiny wooden building, that seemed to be shrinking bashfully behind some bushes.

“Garge!” she called, when heavy footsteps sounded behind her, denoting the presence of her husband.

“Ay, lass; what be it?”

“Garge, ye’ll have to build a better place than yon,” she told him, pointing a contemptuous finger at the little building. “Up at the camp, the Sergeants have a better place than our cottage, while the Officers have a palace fit for a king. We can’t let our Alt come back an’ use a thing like that. ’Taint decent!”