us hope so," she sighed dubiously. "It's no use my sending out
things for him, as they always go wrong. Some time ago I sent him three
brace of grouse and three brace of partridges. He didn't acknowledge
them for weeks, and then he said they were most handy things to kill
Germans with, but were an expensive form of ammunition. I don't quite
know what he meant--but at any rate they were not eatable when they
arrived. Poor fellow!" She sighed again. "If only I knew what was the
matter with him."

"It can't be much," I reassured her, "or you would have heard again.
And this news will act like a sovereign remedy."

She patted the back of my hand with her plump palm. "You're always so
sympathetic and comforting."

"I'm an old soldier, like Leonard," said I, "and never meet trouble
halfway."

At lunch, the old lady insisted on opening a bottle of champagne, a
Veuve Clicquot which Leonard loved, in honour of the glorious occasion.
We could not drink to the hero's health in any meaner vintage, although
she swore that a teaspoonful meant death to her, and I protested that a
confession of champagne to my medical adviser meant a dog's rating. We
each, conscience-bound, put up the tips of our fingers to the glasses
as soon as Mary had filled them with froth, and solemnly drank the
toast in the eighth of an inch residuum. But by some freakish chance or
the other, there was nothing left in that quart bottle by the time Mary
cleared the table for dessert. And to tell the honest truth, I don't
think the health of either my hostess or myself was a penny the worse.
Let no man despise generous wine. Treated with due reverence it is a
great loosener of human sympathy.

Generous ale similarly treated produces the same effect. Marigold,
driving me home, cocked a luminous eye on me and said:

"Begging your pardon, sir, would you mind very much if I broke the neck
of that there Gedge?"

"You would be aiding the good cause," said I, "but I should deplore the
hanging of an old friend. What has Gedge been doing?"

Marigold sounded his horn and slowed down round a bend, and, as soon as
he got into a straight road, he replied.

"I'm not going to say, sir, if I may take the liberty, that I was ever
sweet on Colonel Boyce. People affect you in different ways. You either
like 'em or you don't like 'em. You can't tell why. And a Sergeant,
being, as you may say, a human being, has as much right to his private
feelings regarding a Colonel as