olden-brown tie
and a silk handkerchief, the same shade, emerging from his breast
pocket. By nature, Lance was no dandy; but Roy had not failed to note
that he was apt to be scrupulously well turned out on certain occasions.
And, at sight of him, he promptly 'remembered he had forgotten' the
very particular nature of to-day's occasion: the marriage of Miss Gladys
Elton--step-sister of Rose--to a rising civilian some eighteen years
older than his bride. It was an open secret, in the station, that the
wedding was Mrs Elton's private and personal triumph, that she, not her
unassuming daughter, was the acknowledged heroine of the day.

"Not ready yet--you unmitigated slacker?" Lance exclaimed with an
impatient frown. "Buck up. Time we were moving."

"Awfully sorry. I clean forgot." Roy's tone was not conspicuously
penitent.

"Tell us another! The whole Mess was talking of it at tiffin."

"I'm afraid I'd forgotten all about tiffin."

It was so patently the truth that Lance looked mollified. "You and your
confounded novel! Now then--double. I don't want to be glaringly late."

Roy looked pathetic. "But I'm simply up to the eyes. The truth is, I
can't be bothered. I'll turn up for the dancing at the Hall."

"And I'm to make your giddy excuses?"

"If any one happens to notice my absence, you can say something
pretty----"

He was interrupted by the appearance of Barnard at the verandah door.
"Dog-cart's ready and waiting, Major. What's the hitch?"

"Sinclair's discovered he's too busy to come!"

"What--the favoured one? The fair Rose won't relish _that_ touching mark
of attention. On whom she smiles, from him she expects gold,
frankincense, and myrrh----"

"Drop it, Barnard," Desmond cut in imperatively; and Roy remarked almost
in the same breath, "Thanks for the tip. I'll write to Bombay for the
best brand of all three against another occasion."

"But this is _the_ occasion! Copy--my dear chap, copy! Anglo-India in
excelsis and 'Oh 'Ell' in all her glory!"

It may be mentioned that Mrs Elton's name was Olive; that she saw
soldiers as trees walking. And subalterns retaliated--strictly behind
her back.

But Roy remained unmoved. "If you two are in such a fluster over your
precious wedding, I vote you get out--and let _me_ get on."

Barnard asked nothing better. Miss Arden was his May-fly of the moment.
"Come along, Major," he cried, and vanished forthwith.

As Lance moved away, Roy remarked casually: "Be a go