OUR WONDERFUL WAR.
Page 9
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How the Pots and Pans Section of the Ministry Scored.
A Story by No Means Devoid of Truth!
AN ATMOSPHERE of tranquillity pervaded the luxuriously-appointed .sanctum of the COn. troller of the Pots and Pans Section of the Ministry of Munitions'. The war had become firmly • established after three strenuous years of effective organization. There was the proper note of con fidence in the 2 in, pile of a choice ,Turkey carpet. The sumptuous morocco-covered divan chairs and highly-polished mahogany table' all bespoke the :settled conviction that the war had conie to stay. In a corner of the spacious apartment two undersecretaries were endeavouring to solvetheir last night's dreams by the aid of a dream book. Presently the almost hallowed quiet was broken by the entrance . of the porter, who yawned and formally announced -a visitor. Sir Hector Fuzzynob, the Controller, still ' fresh from his morning canter in the Row, laid aside his "Daily Mail " with a sigh of relief. " Thank the 'Lord that fellow Northcliffe is still in America. We can get on with the war in peace and quietness t " 'Tactfully • the under-secretaries agreed with Sir 'Hector, who motioned the stolid porter to show the visitor in. This important section of the war organia -zation was about to show how it conducted its affairs, and eveh the flies suspended buzzing, agog with interest to note how this highly-salaried and efficient 'official ruled his momentous department.
Entered a weary, sad-eyed provincial with ill-cut _clothes, a hand-bag, a watery-looking umbrella, and -an extended piece of cardboard.
"My card, Sir 'Ector." . "Urn I All! Your name, sir 7" asked the great man. 'Yeou see't on Voogd, Sir 'Ector, 'Erbert Thomas Ira Wa'aall."
" Um I Ah I " (charmingly enunciated by Sir Hector, adding dignity to his diction). "What firm?" " On t'card, Sir 'Ector ; Gripes and Thomas, . Limited, Wa'sall, Sir 'Ector," and the provincial. felt that he had made an excellent impression.
"And your business ? " Sharp and to the point were the questions rapped out, Sir Hector doubtless realising that ten seconds of his time meant an outlay of some 150,000 in the eight millions daily expenditure on the war. There is no trifling or beating about the bush in the Pots and Pans Department! " Wi' regard, sir, to yeour contrite' for 600,-000 cookin'. utensils. I would like, sir, ycour permisiion to soobinit an alternative tender and propose instead o' makinl t'utensils o' tin t' use stamped sheet steel. 'Twould save t' coontra twenty-five per cent. o'• t' cost, Sir 'Ector, increase durability ten times, and I'd, complait Vcoontrad in 'all Vtinte----" , Tin ?—tin?1—TIN ?.? 7 What on earth are you talking about?' interposed the ever-astute Sir Hector., "Tiat bid you say 'TIN ' 7 Why, man alive, they're made of wood I—wood I !—WOOD ! ! 1" "'Sense me, Sir 'Ector," said the unabashed "denizen of the Midlands, " yeour mistaaken ; i'cookin' utensils moost stand cerfin yeat---" "Oh ! dear, dear, dead " interposed Sir Hector, with a sigh, his finger presaing a push button. "Porter," he continued to the yawning geni of the bell, "send Porker to me." Entered as smart a young fellow ever seen outside khaki,a type certainly not to be confuted • with the narrow-chested, slim-waisted youth so often depicted as a,' bunny-" in the Press which does not yet realize that the pen in the Ministry of Munitions is mightier than the tin hat in the trenches.
" Porker," groaned the over-worked Sir Hector, "here' Mr. —. What's your name, sir ? " "Thomas, ,Sir 'Ector, 'Erbert Thomas, on t'eard." " Um! .kh!—Mr. Thomas—from somewhere or other.What's your firm, sir ? " 'Gripes and Thomas, Limited, Wa'sall, Sir 'Ector. Yeou'll see't t'earct, Sir 'Ector." "Damn your card I" snapped the 'now justly irritated Sir Hector. "Don't waste, my time referring to your confounded card ! Porker, this Mauro ab I er I—this person has ,come from the North with a cock and bull story about these cooking utensils ; says they are—he! he !—made of tin!—ha ha 1—TIN, Porker ! TIN/fl And I've told him, Porker, he's wrong; they are made of wood, WOOD, WOOD, Porker, and Mr.—ah I cr1 urn I—Thomas won't believe me, Porker !"
" Sorry, Sir Hector," bravely spoke the young Hercules, bracing himself to an irksome duty, " but I'm afraid Mr. Thomas is right, sir. The cooking pterisils are specified in tin, sir, to withstand .certain degrees of oven heat!"
The face of the great Controller was a study: To be bearded thus by his own secretary was the limit. Turning furiously to the grinning contractor and mustering up that true British spirit Which• officialdom is justly proud of—and highly paid for— he thundered :— "Mr—urn ah I—Thomas, those utensils area made of tin—tin—TE; sir! Not wood, sir, no, sir, nor pig-iron either! And this is ray busy morning and you have wasted enough of my time, sir! Good morning, sir Good morning! '" The illustrious official wiped his heated brow, sub sided into his comfortable divan, emitting a satisfied chuckle as the door closed on the baffled contractor. Sir Hector lit it "Corona-Corona," consciously proud of the masterful way he had upheld the dignity of his department. Even _Germany with its vaunted reputation for organization would not wish to vie with the great Pots and Pans Section of our Ministry of Munitions.
* .* * • Outside the Ministry our young Hercules, hurrying to his morning cup of coffee, saw on the pavement the pathetic figure of the weary Willie from Walsall, eyes fixed heavenwards and lips moving silently.
"Pardon, sir," said the young man in his most solicitous manner, "are you in pain ? "
"In pain? Good Cod! 'Ere, kid, yeou 'eard what 7e, said cop there—' Wood! wood 1 I WOOD !!! A'ave taaken dayoff work t'save coontra poonds an' 'e says they're made o' wood, wood, WOOD! Of all the blankety-da-sh—t ! 1-7 7 :: I ! ?I? *** • ! !I " The verbal effusion being more than ears trained to diplomatic language were used to, Sir Hector's secretary beat a hasty retreat, R. D. F. P * *L.