* *

ECONOMY AT THE CINEMA DE LUXE.

[Illustration: _Mrs. Jones (completing her fourth Hour_). "I used to
stay only two hours; but one 'as to make threepence go further these
days."]

* * * * *

HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.

It happened in Scotland--it couldn't have happened anywhere else.

I had been visiting the MacNeils. They sympathised over my wound; they
rallied round with tea and toast; they provided Scotch whisky. My one
objection to the family was their supreme confidence in these
new-fledged lads of the Home Defence, whom I--as a Subaltern of the old
school who had done my time at Sandhurst before the War--scorned with a
dogged contempt which no degree of argument could kill.

It was when I reached the street that I realised that fervid fire in the
soul of Scotch hospitality--a fire which brands it as unique in our
island story. In my coat pocket reposed a bottle of Heather Dew.

The convalescent home where I was being wooed back to brisk health was
situated along the sea-front. Chuckling at the MacNeils' efforts to
modify my views of our Home Defenders and their inefficiency, and
brooding on the folks' kind hearts, I paused to light a cigarette. The
wind blew out the fluttering flame. It also set me sneezing, for I had a
bad cold in the head. I struck another match.

"Hey!" said a voice suddenly behind me. I swerved, choking back a
sneeze. "Hey, hey, hey!" some broad Doric tongue continued.

A heavy hand came plump on my shoulder; a large Highland face was pushed
into mine; a kilt flapped round long bare shanks. I sneezed again.

"Got ye this time, lad!" announced the son of the North, who now
appeared to be a brawny lance-corporal. "Signallin' ye are. Oot to sea.
Ah saw ye blinkin' wi' a licht."

I sneezed again. "I was'd!" I declared as well as the cold in my head
would allow. "It was a batch. I've dever sigdalled id by life. You're
wrog--quite wrog!"

He gripped me firmly by the arm.

"Dinna tell me!" he announced in conclusive tones. "Ah ken better! Ye're
the second spy Ah've cotched. Come along, ma freend Fritz! Ye'll hae the
job o' explainin' to the Colonel whaur ye got that second-lootenant's
uniform."

Hunching his rifle over his shoulder, he marched me back the way I had
come.

"Where are you takig be to?" I enquired thickly. "Take be to your
Cobbadig Officer at wudce. I wad to egsplaid!"

"Ah'll hae nane o' your clavers," he said shortly. "Y