Lined up for inspection before breakfast, every trooper had
received an exactly similar parcel; every one had given expression
to his thankful heart; then every one had gone away to inspect the
offering.

"This is kind of the ladies, very kind," Carew was observing, with a
perfectly grave face, as he drew out a handkerchief of spotty red
cotton and a khaki-colored nightcap. "Look, Weldon! These fit my
complexion to a charm, and will be wonderfully warm and comfortable.
What is in your grab bag?"

"Ditto, apparently," Weldon answered. "I think I shall keep these to
sport about at home in."

Carew shook his head.

"Oh, no. The kind ladies wish us to use them now, and you should
accept the gift according to the spirit in which it is given."
Taking off his wide felt hat, he replaced it with the wool nightcap,
covered the nightcap with the handkerchief and then put on the hat
over all the rest. "And what have we here?" he continued. "A pipe?
Oh, the naughty ladies! Cigarettes?" He smelled at them gingerly,
then sneezed into a corner of the scarlet kerchief. "Matches,
shoelaces, and, by George, a cake of soap! Now, if we only had a
farmer's almanac and a flannel chest-protector, we'd be quite
complete."

Weldon laughed. Then he beckoned to a little trooper standing beside
the nearest ant-hill.

"Paddy," he said gravely; "these toys are excellent toys. If
anything should happen to me, I'll will them to you."

Paddy thrust his hand into his pocket, drew out his own nightcap and
dangled it by its khaki-colored tip.

"And look at it!" he said slowly. "The spirit is willing and full of
peace; but what would I be doing with that thing, I who never had a
hat on my head till I was ten years old, let alone a cap?"

"Wrap your feet in it, then," Carew suggested. "It's large enough
for them both. Paddy, who eats at your ant-hill?"

The little Irishman winked knowingly.

"Them as invites theirselves, first off. If it's you and Mr. Weldon,
so much the better for Paddy. The rum ration is doubled, the day;
knowing the habits of you both, I'm thinking I see my way to getting
six times gloriously drunk. There's beer by the hogshead, too. It'll
be a mighty Christmas dinner, the first in years I've eaten without
cooking."

"You generally eat it raw?" Carew questioned blandly.

"Praised be Patrick, no; but it's Paddy who has done the cooking.
This year, I am free from my pots and kettles, and can eat with the
best of them. Li