Socks and Flocks 



Billy is "pig knitting" at the mo- 

 ment. That is what the other "girls" 

 call it. She has knit herself to a 

 frazzle on socks. They were fearful 

 and wonderful at first. In fact, the 

 original pair came out so huge they 

 were hung on the mantle-piece last 

 Christmas, and when Santa came down 

 the chimney that night he fled dis- 

 mayed. At least he left nothing in 

 them. There was not enough in his 

 pack to make a show. Later on, how- 

 ever, she had better luck, and I am 

 ready to maintain that few fancier or 

 better knitted socks are now finding 

 their way to France than those from 

 Billy's busy needles. But she is now 

 making me a sweater, and when you 

 make things for any one these days 

 not in, over or behind the trenches you 

 are classed with the Chester Whites, as 

 a very selfish individual. 



There is not nearly so much "pig 

 knitting" going on these days in any 

 line of human activity in this country 



[i47l 



