uth
full. "You must manage things better."

When he had finished eating he put his coat on, buckled on his sabre
and put on his forage cap.

His wife watched him from the sofa with angry eyes as he brushed his
heavy beard and put on his gloves.

Heppner looked her straight in the face, laughed scornfully and said:
"Yes, you are thinking again: 'Now he is going to the public-house and
will spend all the bit of money!' Well, as it happens, it's not so this
time. But you had better believe it all the same, and make yourself
really angry."

This perpetual lack of money was, however, no joke to the sister-in-law
either, as she was always having to put off and conciliate the
creditors, and she joined in angrily: "It's the truth! You squander the
money and we have to manage as best we can."

Heppner went round behind her and mockingly retorted: "So you're
beginning to scold like your dear sister? It seems to be catching. But
I'll tell you how it is: there was a good lot of the farewell beer left
over yesterday, and I saved it up for myself. Now, who's right?"

He tapped his sister-in-law's round shoulder playfully, and added: "Who
knows? Perhaps to-morrow I may give you quite a lot of money."

With that he left the house.

He was in a good temper. It had long been a grievance to him that
Schumann--grumbling old plodder!--instead of packing up his few sticks
and being drafted into the civil service, should have remained so long
stuck fast to the battery, thus preventing his own promotion. Now at
last the old man had disappeared, and he was certain of becoming
sergeant-major.

To-day was a lucky day for him, he felt sure; and this must be taken
advantage of: a little game must be arranged for the evening.

Therefore, he had taken care only to invite men on whom he could
rely to this second instalment of the farewell drinking party: the
sergeant-major of the fifth battery, who imitated his chief in
drinking, and Trumpeter Henke of his own, the sixth battery, two
seasoned gamblers. The two other members of the party were to be the
landlord of the White Horse, and the fat baker, Kuehn, who held the
contract for the white bread supplied to the regiment. To the baker in
particular he had allotted the _role_ of loser, as he had the most
money.

At the gate it suddenly occurred to Heppner that it would be much
pleasanter to walk the half-mile to the town in company, and he decided
to fetch the trumpeter.

Sergeant Henk