he bill, a small
one at the bottom, and the between turns lamentable. And, of course, a
visit to some busy "saloon bar" redolent of "beer and 'baccy." Then home
on the electric tram.

The thought of it all did not, as might be expected, make them sad. In
fact, the home memories seemed to warm their hearts, and the humour of
this "Saturday night," which might have left more delicately cultured
natures untouched, appealed to them irresistibly.

That night the Subaltern, too, had his dreams. They did not fly
homewards: he would have hated to have been surrounded and overwhelmed
by his family: he shrank at the thought of congratulations: he shuddered
at the idea of explanations. To-night he would have wished to be quite
alone. And in London!

First of all would come a hot bath at the hotel--a tremendous scrubbing,
and a "rub down," with a big towel--haircuttings, and shaving, and nail
cleanings! Then he would get into mufti. He chose, after a careful
review, a lounge suit of a grey-blue colour that had been fashionable
that summer. It was light, and he had always liked the feel of it on his
shoulders. He chose the shirt, collar and tie to go with it. He imagined
himself completely dressed, and he looked with pleasure down at the
straight creases in his trousers, at his neat patent leather boots with
their suede tops. It pleased him tremendously to imagine himself once
more properly "clothed and in his right mind."

The next thing would be a feed. He reminded himself of his hunger, and
argued that he did not want anything "fancy." He would go to a grill and
order just what he liked, and a lot of it. The "Trocerdilli" was just
the place. First of all would come a "short one"--not that he needed an
appetiser! He imagined himself seated at a table, the cloth startlingly
white, the cutlery and glasses reflecting a thousand points of light.
He could hear the band, above the whirr of conversation, playing
something he knew. He was glancing down the menu card, and the waiter
was at his side. A soup that was succulent, thick and hot--his mouth
watered! Whitebait, perhaps. He saw their round little eyes and stiff
tails as he squeezed his slice of lemon over them. He felt the
wafer-slice of brown bread and butter in his fingers. A whisky-and-soda,
and a double one at that, to drink--he was tired of these French wines.
_A steak_ "from the grill"--undoubtedly a steak--tender, juicy, red,
with "chipped" potatoes, lying in long gold-a