OUR WONDERFUL WAR.
Page 9
If you've noticed an error in this article please click here to report it so we can fix it.
The Accounts Department of the Ministry of Munitions Acquires the Right Spirit. Another Experience by No Means Devoid of Truth.
CGNSOIENTIONS to a degree, although he plays golf and nas been anewn surreptitiously to improve a bad "lie," Richard Doright, one-time commercial vehicle salesman, now manufacturer of coal scuttles for officers' " dug-outs," discovered an error in the Ministry of Munitions calculations to his advantage of 2408 us. 5id.
There it was, as large as your hat,. The Accountancy Department of the Coal Scuttle Section of the Ministry of Munitions had passed it. To remain silent and accept payment meant a lot to Richard Doright, £408, to say nothing of the odd Ils. 5id., what might he not do with it ?
True, it was hard to know what else he could buy Mrs. Doright. . . The war had been kind to him and to her, and if he passed the amount as excess profits, it was, after all, only another way of handing it back again to the Government, with all his extra, bookkeeping for nothing!
No I Honesty was the best policy.
He would call and get the error properly adjusted. Forthwith he repaired to that sumptuous building which, in pre-war days, was known as the Pekinese and Porn-porn Fanciers Club, now. entirely .occupied by the staff of the accountancy department of the Coal Scuttle Section of the Ministry of Munitions. A war-beaten veteran, lame on one side by the weight of his well-won decorations, jangled a petulant welcome as our hero's name, age, birthplace, birthmarks and thumb marks were entered in the Domesday Book. A red form a white form, and a blue form, presumably to conform with our loyalty to the " Entente Cordiale," were duly filled up, signed and entered, while to show no particular favouritisni, a yellow form was similarly treated. Meanwhile a boy scout had relieved Mr. Doright of his umbrella, handbag and two library books. The Inquisition Department finally "handed Mr. Doright over to the Intelligence Department, whose printed forms varied somewhat in colour, but little ' in formula, marking the infinite completeness of our wonderful Government check system, which is slawly. but surely paralyzing Germany. From the Intelligence Department Mr. Doright was referred to Room 580 at the top of the building, but, unfortunately, this was the "Department for ' Accounts Inward." It was Room n 29 on the first floor the "Department. for Accounts Outward" to which Mr. Doright ought to apply.' Arriving eventually at Room 29, Mr. Deright paused before entering this throbbing pulse of our great war organization.
. Mysterious sounds as if a. section of infantry were swatting flies reached his ears.
Had he come to the wrong -de • partnaent ?
Cautiously he opened the door i and peeped n.
The scene was a thrilling one. A long, highly. polished mahogany table in the handsomely-appointed saloon had been cleared of its inkpots, ledgers and papers, which lay in heterogeneous piles against the surrounding walls. A net was spread
across the table,sand feu; stalwart young ladies were engaged in an exciting game or ping-pong. The remainder of the staff looked on and cheesed.
The_sporting spirit of the race—a spirit which has ever carried us to victory and glory—was in strong evidence.
Swish ! Plong "Thirty . . . forty ! " Swish ! Plong!
" Deuce ! "
"Oh, well served, Mand ! Bully shot!" Swish! Plong Bang!
" Advantage-out!" Mr. Doright thought this must refer to him, and was furtively retiring when "Hold on, there! called an arrestingly charming voice ; "what do you want?" " Pardon, ' said the humble Mr. Doright, "1 have made a mistake ; I am looking for the Accounts Outward Department.'"
" Right-o ! Come into, the office, Excuse me, Maud! . . . Your advantage—"
" Well, sir, what can we do for you?"
" The matter of my account, miss, for coal scuttles for officers' dug-outs,' " began Mr. Doright, facing, the athletic young lady, perspiring from her exertion and fanning herself complacently with her bat. " Well, what about it, -old sport ?" " You've made a mistake, miss, if I may make bold to say -so. There is a miscalculation of Z408 11s. 51-d.
here in my favour. . "Oh, is mere trifle, Percy. Hand over the papers ! . . Here, Jane, look into this, will you There's a dear] . . . Right-o, Colonel ! We'll send you a corrected thingummy. . . . Your service, Maud. . . . Advantage out, wasn'tit? " ' Swish! Plong I! Bang ii
" Dash ! . . . Your game! . . . I say, how can anyone play with these silly interruptions? "
But Mr. Doright had discreetly retired, assured that the sanguine and irrepressible spirit so consistently evinced by our gallant lads in the trenches had unmistakably taken root even in our one-time depressingly phlegmatic Government departments.
Mr. Horatio Bottomley is right ; the war is won.
R. D. F. P* *Is