e," said Miss Carter.

"And rather sporting of the Smythe-Joneses, don't you think?"

She said it again. By this time I felt convinced that all the other
couples within hearing were listening to us. Miss Carter is that sort
of person.

"Of course," I said with a nervous laugh, "it's rather absurd for me
to say anything about it, because, you know, dancing isn't much in my
line."

"Quite," said Miss Carter.

That settled it; I felt I must stop her at all costs. I cleared my
throat and spoke as distinctly as I could.

"I'm always being asked a conundrum, Miss Carter, and you're the one
person who can tell me the true answer. Am I permitted to ask it?"

"Quite," said Miss Carter, for the first time almost smiling. I
plucked up courage.

"It's this: how old are you?"

She stopped herself just in time. Her answer was given in a tone
which expressed at the same time her contempt for my breach of the
conventions and the fact that she was too indifferent to think me
worth snubbing.

"Twenty-two," said she.

"Quite," said I.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "HOW WOULD YOU LIKE YOUR HAIR DONE, MADAM?"

"WELL, I WANT TO GET IT DEBOBBED AS SOON AS POSSIBLE."]

* * * * *

THE CAREER (POSTPONED).

MY DEAR JAMES,--A few weeks ago I wrote to tell you that ere long the
military machine would be able to spare one of its cogs--myself. I
discussed possible careers in civil life, and since then I had almost
decided on "filbert-grower." Had things gone well, by the beginning of
June you should have received a first instalment of forced filberts.

Now this cannot be. The cog is shown to be indispensable. I must
remain a soldier.

Why do they want me, James? I am nothing like a soldier. I cannot
click my heels as other men do. I try, Heaven knows how I try, but all
the C.O. hears is a sound as of two cabbages being slapped together.
And my word of command! The critics say it is like a cry for help in
a London fog.

My haversack contains no trace of any Field-Marshal's baton. You are
aware that every private soldier's haversack is issued complete with
"Batons, one, Field-Marshal (potential), for the use of." But there is
no authority for such an issue for commissioned ranks.

Is it because of my manner with men and my powers as a disciplinarian?
I fear not. If a man is brought before me for summary jurisdiction a
lump rises in my throat and I want to cry. I am