him, squeaking, "Where are your
gloves, Sir?" "I always put 'em in cold storage during summer along
with my muff and boa, dear," the Babe replied pleasantly. "Moreover,
my mother doesn't like me to talk to strangers in the streets, so
ta-ta." The little creature blushed like a tea-rose and stamped its
little hoof. "Insolence!" it squeaked. "You--you go back to France by
the next boat!" and the Babe perceived to his horror that he had been
witty to an Assistant Provost-Marshal! He flung himself down on his
knees, licking the A.P.M.'s boots and crying in a loud voice that he
would be good and never do it again.

The A.P.M. pardoned the Babe (he wanted to save the polish on his
boots) on condition that he immediately purchased a pair of gloves of
the official cut and hue. The Babe did so forthwith and continued on
his way. He had not continued ten yards when another A.P.M. tripped
him up. "That cap is a disgrace, Sir!" he barked. "I know it, Sir,"
the Babe admitted, "and I'm awfully sorry about it; but that hole in
it only arrived last night--shrapnel, you know--and I haven't had time
to buy another yet. I don't care for the style they sell in those
little French shops--do you?"

The A.P.M. didn't know anything about France or its little shops, and
didn't intend to investigate; at any rate not while there was a war
on there. "You will return to the Front to-morrow," said he. The Babe
grasped his hand from him and shook it warmly. "Thank you--thank you,
Sir," he gushed; "I didn't want to come, but they made me. I'm from
Fiji; have no friends here, and London is somehow so different from
Suva it makes my head ache. I am broke and couldn't afford leave,
anyway. Thank you, Sir--thank you."

"Ahem--in that case I will revoke my decision," said the A.P.M. "Buy
yourself an officially-sanctioned cap and carry on."

The Babe bought one with alacrity; then, having tasted enough of the
dangers of the streets for one afternoon, took a taxi, and, lying in
the bottom well out of sight, sped to his old hotel. When he reached
his old hotel he found it had changed during his absence, and was now
headquarters of the Director of Bones and Dripping. He abused the
taxi-driver, who said he was sorry, but there was no telling these
days; a hotel was a hotel one moment, and the next it was something
entirely different. Motion pictures weren't in it, he said.

Finally they discovered a hotel which was still behaving as such, and
the Babe got