'My sainted uncle!' he exclaimed; 'if it isn't my old sparring-partner
from Old Glory!--Gentlemen, permit me to introduce to you the brains,
lungs, and liver of the American Army.'

The subalterns acknowledged the introduction with the utmost
cordiality, suggesting that they should return to the lounge and
inundate the vitals of the American Army with liquid refreshment; but
Selwyn pleaded an excuse, and with many 'Cheerios' the happy-go-lucky
youngsters moved on, enjoying to the limit their hard-earned leave from
the front.

'May I offer my congratulations?' said Selwyn.

'Come outside,' said the colonel.

They adjourned to the terrace, and Smyth placed his hand in the other's
arm. 'Do you know who I am?' he said.

'Eh?' said Selwyn, rather bewildered by the mysterious nature of the
question.

'I, my dear Americano, am A.D. Super-Camouflage Department, War
Office.' The colonel chuckled delightedly, but checking himself,
reared his neck with almost Roman hauteur. 'I have one major, two
captains, five subalterns, and eleven flappers, whose sole duty is to
keep people from seeing me.'

'Why?' asked the American.

'I don't know,' said the colonel; 'but it's a fine system.'

'You have done wonderfully well.'

'Moderately so,' said the A.D. Super-Camouflage Department. 'I have
been decorated by eleven foreign Governments and given an honorary
degree by an American university. I also drive the largest car in
London.'

'You amaze me.'

'As an opener,' said the colonel, forgetting his dignity in the recital
of his greatness, 'I am in enormous demand. I can open a ball, a
bottle, or a bazaar with any man in the country.'

'But,' said Selwyn, 'how did it all come about?'

'Ah!' exclaimed Smyth, glancing up and down the terrace after the
manner of a stage villain. 'Three years ago I was an officer's
servant. I polished my subaltern-fellow's buttons, cleaned his boots,
and mended his unmentionables. One day this young gentleman and myself
were billeted on an old French artist. When I saw those canvases, I
felt the old Adam in me thirsting for expression. Before all I am an
artist! I made a bargain with the old Parley-vous--a pair of my young
officer's boots for two canvases and the use of his paints. Agreed.
On the one I did a ploughman wending his weary thingumbob home--you
know. The following day happened to be my precious young officer's
birthday, and we celebrated it in style. I would not say h