ivered" in time for the concert. The promise was not kept.

That was our first misfortune. With deep misgiving we dragged our own
piano out of the canteen and set it on the stage. The musical members
of Miss L.'s staff assured us that it was desperately out of tune.
The least musical of us could assure ourselves that several notes
made no sound at all, however hard you hit them. And the concert
party was a very grand one.

It arrived in two motors, and we abased ourselves before it, babbling
apologies. One after another the members of the party approached our
piano and poked at it with their forefingers. One after another they
turned away looking depressed. The only one of them who remained
moderately cheerful was a man who did conjuring tricks. It was, I
imagine, through his good offices that the party agreed to attempt
its programme.

The audience, who knew the failings of our piano as well as we did,
applauded the first song rapturously. Then without the slightest
warning every lamp in the place went out. A dog, a well-beloved
creature called Detail, who was accustomed to sit under Miss L.'s
chair at concerts, began to bark furiously. That, I think, was what
finally broke the temper of the concert party. We had an oil lamp
ready for emergencies. It was lit, and I saw the leader of the party
beckoning to me. His face was fearfully stern. I fully expected him
to say that the whole party would leave at once.

But he did nothing so drastic. He demanded the instant expulsion of
Detail. There was a scuffle at the far end of the room. The audience
rose to its feet and cheered tumultuously. Detail, I am sorry to say,
barked again. I saw eight men staggering through the crowded room
bearing a piano. It was quite new, and, I am told, almost in tune.
The situation was saved. The singers were mollified and went on with
their programme by the light of one lamp, two candles (on the piano),
and three stable lanterns. An orderly with a screwdriver and a box of
matches sought for the fused wire. Detail crept under her mistress's
chair again unrebuked. She was an animal of cultivated tastes and
hated missing concerts. She usually behaved with decorum, not barking
except by way of applause when the audience shouted and noise of any
kind was legitimate.

The camp is, I am told, very different now. There is a new canteen,
large, well furnished, and beautiful. Concerts can be held in it and
church services. No one is any longer crow