The son of the well-to-do family had recently joined up as a private, and was spending his Christmas leave at home.

Returning from a walk, his mother espied a figure in the kitchen with the housemaid.

“Clarence,” she called to her son, “Mary’s got someone in the kitchen. She knows perfectly well that I don’t allow followers. I wish you’d go and tell the man to leave the house at once.”

Clarence duly departed to the kitchen, but returned in about half a minute.

“Sorry, mother, but I can’t turn him out.”

“Can’t turn him out? Why on earth not?”

“He’s my sergeant!”