tea-shops where all the officers of the 1st and 2nd
Divisions go and have tea.

On Saturday morning they sent three hundred shells into Cuinchy, in
revenge for their trench blown up (see to-day's _Communique_ from Sir
J.F.).

_Friday, April 9th,_ 10.30 P.M.--An empty house was found for us on the
same square, left exactly as it was when the owners left when the place
was shelled. It was filthy from top to toe, but we have found a girl
called Gabrielle to be our servant, and she has made a good start in the
cleaning to-day. There are three bedrooms--mine is a funny little one
built out at the back, down three steps, with two windows overlooking a
corner of the square and our road past the hospital.

It is my fourth billet here in a week, and Gabrielle and I have made it
quite habitable by collecting things from other parts of the house. We
are back in our own rugs and blankets again without sheets, and there is
no water on yet, but we filled our hot-water bottles at the hospital,
and are quite warm and cosy, and locked up--I shall have to let
Gabrielle in at 6.30 to-morrow morning. She is going to shop and cook
for us, with help from the kind Marie at the Chateau, who is aghast at
our present more military mode of living. The Chateau is now swarming
with Staff Officers, to whom Marie pays far less attention than she does
to us!

When the wind is in the right direction you can hear the rifle firing as
well as the guns--and they are often shelling aeroplanes on a fine day.
We have two bad cases in to-night--one wounded in the lung, and one
medical transferred from downstairs, where the slight medicals are.

A Captain of the ----, hit in the back this morning when he was crossing
in the open to visit a post in his trench, has a little freckled Jock
for his servant, who dashed out to bring him in when he fell. "Most
gallant, you know," he said. They adore each other. Jock stands to
attention, salutes, and says "Yes'm" when I gave him an order. Their
friends troop in to see them as soon as they hear they're hit. So many
seem to have been wounded before--nearly all, in fact.

Letters are coming in very irregularly, I don't quite know why.

_Saturday, April 10th_, 10.30 P.M.--It is difficult to settle down to
sleep to-night: the sky is lit up with flashes and star-shells, and
every now and then a big bang shakes the house, above the almost
continuous thud, thudding, and the barking of the machine-guns and the
crack