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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
123
There
is
no
room
of
course
for
all
those
extra
men
and
horses
at
the
farm,
and
when
a
few
days
before
their
arrival
(sometimes
it
is
only
one,
and
sometimes
only
a
few
hours)
an
official
appears
and
informs
us
of
the
number
to
be
billeted
on
us,
the
Man
of
Wrath
has
to
have
temporary
sheds
run
up,
some
as
stables,
some
as
sleeping-places,
and
some
as
dining-rooms.
Nor
is
it
easy
to
cook
for
five
hundred
people
more
than
usual,
and
all
the
ordinary
business
of
the
farm
comes
to
a
stand-still
while
the
hands
prepare
barrowfuls
of
bacon
and
potatoes,
and
stir
up
the
coffee
and
milk
and
sugar
together
with
a
pole
in
a
tub.
Part
of
the
regimental
band
is
here,
the
upper
part.
The
base
instruments
are
in
the
next
village;
but
that
did
not
deter
an
enthusiastic
young
officer
from
marching
his
men
past
our
windows
on
their
arrival
at
six
in
the
morning,
with
colours
flying,
and
what
he
had
of
his
band
playing
their
tunes
as
unconcernedly
as
though
all
those
big
things
that
make
such
a
noise
were
giving
the
fabric
its
accustomed
and
necessary
base.
We
are
paid
six
pfennings
a
day
for
lodging
a
common
soldier,
and
six
pfennings
for
his
horse--rather
more
than
a
penny
in
English
money
for
the
pair
of
them;
only
unfortunately
sheds
and
carpentry
are
not
quite
so
cheap.
Eighty
pfennings
a
day
is
added
for
the
soldier's
food,
and
for
this
he
has
to
receive
two
pounds
of
bread,
half
a
pound
of
meat,
a
quarter
of
a
pound
of
bacon,
and
either
a
quarter
of
a
pound
of
rice
or
barley
or
three
pounds
of
potatoes.
Officers
are
paid
for
at
the
rate
of
two
marks
fifty
a
day
without
wine;
we
are
not
obliged
to
give
them
wine,
and
if
we
do
they
are
regarded
as
guests,
and
behave
accordingly.
The
thirty
we
have
now
do
not,
as
I
could
have
wished,
all
go
out
together
in
the
morning
and
stay
out
till
the
evening,
but
some
go
out
as
others
come
in,
and
breakfast
is
not
finished
till
lunch
begins,
and
lunch
drags
on
till
dinner,
and
all
day
long
the
dining-room
is
full
of
meals
and
officers,
and
we
ceased
a
week
ago
to
have
the
least
feeling
that
the
place,
after
all,
belongs
to
us.
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