erman ambassador in exactly
seven and a half minutes by the clock. But never, in all his experience,
had he witnessed such concentration, such rapidity of execution, as that
which the lean, worn man at the big desk possessed. It was better than
watching a machine gun in action, with all stops out.

Worming his way up to the desk, the reporter started on his set speech.
"Mr. Army Post Office Superintendent, will you consent to be interviewed
for----" when he was summarily stopped by the wave of an ample hand and
the booming of the P.S.'s voice.

"Want me to talk, do you, eh? Want to know what I do with my spare time?
All right, son; just jump over that gang of pouch-robbers and come on
inside. Here you----" this to the still combatant orderlies, at the same
time throwing an armfull of mail and papers at them--"here's all the
stuff for your outfits to-day. Divvy up among yourselves, and then
breeze!--beat it!--allez!

"Now, then, you want to know what I do with my spare time? Well, I work
eighteen hours a day in the office, and the other six I spend worrying
whether or not I gipped some poor Buddy when I cashed his American money
order in French paper currency. Like the saloons in Hoboken, we never
close.

Really Busy at Christmas.

"That's just about the way it was, no kidding, during the Christmas
rush. In about a month enough tobacco, chocolate, chewing gum, knit
socks, mufflers, fruit cake, safety razors, lump sugar--to judge from
the contents lists on the outside of the bundles--came through this
office to stock the whole of France for the next year and a half. Now,
though"--tossing a long, yellow envelope across the room into a numbered
pigeonhole--"things have slackened up a bit. A week ago I had half an
hour off to shave."

"Do the people back home cause you much bother by not addressing their
letters correctly?" asked the reporter.

"N--no," replied the P.S. meditatively, "although I did get one the
other day addressed to Private Ethan Allan of the 'American
Revolutionary Force.' At first I was going to send it back to Vermont,
after changing the private to Colonel, and have the D.A.R. see that it
got somewhere near old Ethe's final resting place; but on second thought
I guessed she--it's generally a she--meant the American Expeditionary
Forces. So I went down about three or four regimental rosters, and
finally I found the guy. Now he's probably wondering why he didn't get
that lett