the
street, chasin' a young hofficer in low shoes. 'Ere, tyke this; I'm a
hold soldier meself." He thrust a damp banana in the Babe's hand and
closed the door softly.

Next morning the Babe dug up an old suit of 1914 "civies" and put
them on. A woman in the Tube called him "Cuthbert" and informed him
gratuitously that her husband, twice the Babe's age, had volunteered
the moment Conscription was declared and had been fighting bravely
in the Army Clothing Department ever since. Further she supposed
the Babe's father was in Parliament and that he was a Conscientious
Objector. In Hyde Park one urchin addressed him as "Daddy" and asked
him what he was doing in the Great War; another gambolled round and
round him making noises like a rabbit. In Knightsbridge a Military
Policeman wanted to arrest him as a deserter. The Babe hailed a taxi
and, cowering on the floor, fled back to his hotel and changed into
uniform again.

That night, strolling homewards in the dark immersed in thought, he
inadvertently took a pipe out of his pocket and lit it. An A.P.M. who
had been sleuthing him for half-a-mile leapt upon him, snatched the
pipe and two or three teeth out of his mouth and returned him to
France by the next boat.

* * * * *

His groom, beaming welcome, met him at the railhead with the horses.

"Hello, old thing, cheerio and all the rest of it," Huntsman whinnied
lovingly.

Miss Muffet rubbed her velvet muzzle against his pocket. "Brought a
lump of sugar for a little girl?" she rumbled.

He mounted her and headed across country, Miss Muffet pig-jumping and
capering to show what excellent spirits she enjoyed.

Two brigades of infantry were under canvas in Mud Gully, their cook
fires winking like red eyes. The guards clicked to attention and
slapped their butts as the Babe went by. A subaltern bobbed out of a
tent and shouted to him to stop to tea. "We've got cake," he lured,
but the Babe went on.

A red-hat cantered across the stubble before him waving a friendly
crop, "Pip" Vibart the A.P.M. homing to H.Q. "Evening, boy!" he
holloaed; "come up and Bridge to-morrow night," and swept on over the
hillside. A flight of aeroplanes, like flies in the amber of sunset,
droned overhead _en route_ for Hunland. The Babe waved his official
cap at them: "Good hunting, old dears."

They had just started feeding up in the regimental lines when he
arrived; the excited neighing of five hundred horses w