swampy field.

"Would you like to sleep here on the floor?" he said, showing us a
clean-looking office. "We regret we have no beds."

We were delighted. His wife, who had gone to bed, appeared in a striped
petticoat and a second one worn as a shawl.

"The tables shall be moved and the stove lit," she said. "It will be
ready in a few minutes."

We picked our way back to the fire, avoiding the dung-heap and pig-stye,
whereby we nearly fell into a cesspool. Cocoa was brewing, one
card-house had been erected as a shelter for some of our things. The
drivers were crouched round their own fire cooking something. It was
difficult to find our bundles in the carts as one only recognized them
by the drivers. We climbed in feeling about by the light of a match. Jo
found a foot in one.

"How can we find things with people lying on them?" she said to the
foot.

It remained immobile; she pulled it--no response. She tugged it. A face
lifted itself at the far end of the cart. It was the corporal's wife
lying on her own possessions, very tired and rather cross. Jo patted her
remorsefully and decamped.

We must have looked like a regiment of gnomes bearing forbidden treasure
as we hobbled through the darkness, laden with our bundles of blankets.
The light in the office nearly blinded us, and the heat from the stove
struck us like a violent blow. The mayor, his wife, two hurriedly
dressed children and several other people received us. There was an
awkward silence. Jo murmured in the background--

"It is manners here to go up, shake hands, and say one's name."

Very uncomfortably everybody did so, one by one. Another silence. We
racked our brains--the weather--our journey--the war. One had nothing
sensible to say about anything. Jo asked the children's age. The
information was supplied. Silence. We filled the gap by smiling. At last
the mayor's wife said we must be worn out, and they all left us.

The mayor crept back. "Don't talk about the military situation," he
said; "if these Turks knew it they might kill us all." Then he shut the
door.

We flew to a window and opened it, changed our stockings, hung wet boots
and socks over the stove, ate bully beef, and rolled up, pillowing our
heads on our little sacks--thirteen sleepy people.

The mayor's wife opened the door an inch and peeped at us as we lay,
looking, indeed, more like a jumble sale than anything. Mawson wore a
Burglar cap tied under his chin, and a collection of kha