I am afraid, though, that I used to make rather a big meal of it, as for the first two weeks I had to exist on the German rations.
When I took my first walk in the yard the canteen manager, his wife, and daughter were evidently watching out for me; for by and by, as a sign of their good-will, the daughter came running out after me with a present. It was an egg!
Cotton and I had a serious talk about this egg. He thought I should save it, and have half for supper and half for breakfast; but I settled the matter by eating it at once.
I think I have forgotten to mention that we were allowed to buy for half a mark, a loaf of bread every five days. I had no idea how far a loaf would go; I had never before given it a thought.
But Cotton had it down to a science; and worked it out that two small slices for breakfast, and the same for supper would carry me through, and he kept me to it.
"Cotton," I would say, after I had breakfasted on the two slices, "I could eat another slice."
"This is the fourth day, sir, and if you have another slice, there will only be a small piece of crust for to-morrow's breakfast."
"All right, Cotton, I will sleep to dinner-time instead."
It was a joyful day when my first parcels arrived in camp. I was too excited about it to eat alone that day; and I invited young Martell of the R.N.A.S. to come and dine with me in my room.
There was a tin of soup and a tin of tripe and onions, and some biscuits and cheese. What a banquet! Martell and I decided to do ourselves in style. We even went so far as to send Cotton to the canteen for two glasses of what we indulgently patronised the canteen manager's humour by calling port wine.
Martell cooked the tripe and onions, after opening the tin with his penknife, and boiled it on the stove. The more we thought of that meal, the more we schemed to make a spread of it.
Cotton, too, rose to the occasion. From the canteen he obtained a sheet of white paper for a table-cloth, and by the side of each plate he placed a clean white handkerchief for serviettes.
The table was just a little rough, wooden one, about two feet square. The room was swept and the beds made to give the room a tidy appearance, and then we sat down.
Yes, Cotton understood. He knew that that meal was taking our thoughts back to England. It was taking him back, too. He knew that we imagined we were back again in the mess; and he imagined the same thing himself.