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Everything was very solemn and very usual on this occasion. Even the little clatter as P.Y.C. fell up the shaky stairs on to the stage (with the forest glade still in position) and handed the A.R.P.O. his singular "props" was accepted without a smile, since it was a serious meeting and everyone knew the steps of old.

The Colonel earned general approval in a way which I suspect never occurred to him for his audience sat and listened to him in inscrutable silence.

This condition of blank receptiveness is common in Auburn and has been mistaken by the stranger for suspicion or even pride. In fact it is nothing so active, but is an outward expression of a complete reservation of judgment. I don't think any true East Coast man ever assumes a newcomer is either friendly or against him, or indeed that he is anything save an object of interest, until he has absolutely finished presenting himself and has been thinking of something else for some considerable time, say a day or so.

On this occasion the A.R.P.O., standing on the stage with the glade behind him, a bright new dustbin full of imaginary sand in front of him and a glistening zinc shovel on a pole in his hand, satisfied 99 per cent of the room at once by explaining that although this outfit was advised by the Government for those about to deal with incendiary bombs it was none of it necessary, and that any old pail of sand and any long-handled fork, rake or spade would do equally well. Afterwards he went over the official methods of gas-proofing a room and advocated among other things a truss of hay up the chimney and thick wet curtains over the doors. It was all so alarmingly practical and simple, so obviously meant for use. The audience was still with interest, if as expressionless as so many Chinese.