ised with such vigour that two days before the date of the match
Georges Darre, right back, punted his toe through a previously suspected
weak spot in the ball and irreparably ruined it. The Societe Athletique was
informed of the disaster and asked to supply a ball, but they answered that
no known authority or precedent existed for visiting teams providing the
accessories. There was also an insinuation that the story of the burst ball
was a fabrication, designed to give the Sportif Club a loophole of escape
from a contest that spelt certain defeat.

Stung to the quick, the _deuxieme equipage_ made an urgent appeal to the
_premier equipage_ of the Sportif Club, who replied that this was the first
intimation they had had of the existence of a _deuxieme equipage_, and
recommended a tourney at marbles or a combat of peg-tops as being more
suitable to their tender years.

Naturally this insult could not be brooked, and it was decided to break
away from the parent body and reorganise under the title of the Racing Club
de Petiteville; but this did not help them to solve the question of a new
ball. Then it was that Theo Navet, left half, and son of the
_blanchisseuse_ in the rue Napoleon, had an inspiration, and Percival's
pyjamas became linked up with the destinies of the club.

* * * * *

"It wouldn't surprise me, Sir," said Elfred on the evening when Petiteville
was ringing with the news of the Racing Club's victory by 4 _buts_ to 2,
"if you are the only officer in Mess to-night with a reelly clean collar."

"And why am I singled out for so much honour?" asked Percival, taking the
slacks which Elfred produced from between the mattresses. "Has the
Washer-women's Union handed in notices and made a complimentary exception
in my case?"

"Well, Sir, you _'ave_ been favoured, but it weren't a strike," explained
Elfred. "You know, Sir, there's been an alarming short ration of coal an'
fuel down in the village for a long time, an' two days ago Madame Navet,
who does the orficers' washing, came up an' said she was bokoo fashay but
the washing was napood for the week, becos she couldn't buy, beg, borrer
nor steal enough fuel to keep her copper biling.... Do we wear the yaller
boots to-night, Sir, or the _very_ yaller ones?"

"The light pair," said Percival, "to give tone to the clean collar. But go
on."

"Well, I put it to Madame as my orficer was a very partickler gent, an'
she'd gotter do our w