lower-pot.
"Hi!--you there with the last year's hat!--
Let's see what you have got!
And if they're half as nice as you,
We'll buy the blooming lot."

But, as they stood there chaffering,
Out from the station came
A string of cautious motor-cars,
Packed full of lean, brown men,--
The halt, the maimed, the blind, the lame,--
The wreckage of the wars,--
Their faces pinched and full of pain,
Their eyes still dazed with stress and strain,--
The nation's creditors.

The Subs, the girls, and Flora stood,
There in the pouring rain,
And shouted hearty welcomes to
The broken, lean-faced men.
And when they'd passed, the little Subs
Turned to their fun again.

But the biggest heart among them all
Beat under the feathered hat;--
"Not me!" she cried, and up, and sped
After the boys who had fought and bled,--
"Here's a game worth two o' that!"

She caught the cars, and in she flung
Her wares with lavish hand.
"_Narcissus!--vi'lets!_--here, you chaps!
_Primroses! dafs!_--for your rumply caps!
My! Ain't you black-an'-tanned!
_Narcissus! vi'lets!_--all abloom,--
We're glad to see you back.
_Primroses!--dafs!_ Thenk Gawd you laughs,
If it's on'y crooked smiles.
We're glad, my lads, to see you home,
If your faces are like files."

They thanked her with their crooked smiles,
Their bandaged hands they waved,
Narcissus, vi'lets, prims, and daffs,
They welcomed them with twisted laughs,
Quite proper they behaved.
And one said, "You're a Daisy, dear,
And if you'd stop the 'bus
We'd every one give you a kiss,
And so say all of us.
A Daisy, dear, that's what you are."
And the rest,--"You are! You are!"

Then Flora swung her basket high,
And tossed her feathered head;
To the boys she gave one final wave,
And to herself she said,--
"What kind of a silly old fool am I,
Playin' the goat like that?--
Chuckin' of all my stock awye,
And damaging me 'at?
But them poor lads did look so thin,
I couldn't ha' slept if I 'adn't a-bin
An' gone an' done this foolish thing.
An' it done them good, an' it done me good,
So what's the odds if I does go lean,
For a day or two, till the nibs comes in?
A gell like me can always live,
An' the bit I had I had to give.
An' he called me a Daisy!--aw--'_Daisy dear!_'
An' I--tell--you, it made me queer,--
With a lump in me throat and a swell right here.
Fus