rvice Pocket
Book, and wrote:--

_The Supply Officer of the District is at liberty to occupy this
billet only at such times as it is not required by the troops of the
Combatant Services.

Signed, F.J. Cockerell,
Lieut. & Asst. Adj.,
7th B. & W. Highes_.

"That's a pretty nasty one!" he observed with relish. Then, having
pinned the insulting document conspicuously to the mantelpiece, he
observed to the mystified lady of the house:--

"_Voila, Madame. Si l'officier reviendra, je le verrai moi-meme, avec
grand plaisir. Bon jour_!"

And with this dark saying Sparrow Cockerell took his departure.

II

The Battalion, headed by their tatterdemalion pipers, stumped into the
town in due course, and were met on the outskirts by the billeting
party, who led the various companies to their appointed place. After
inspecting their new quarters, and announcing with gloomy satisfaction
that they were the worst, dirtiest, and most uncomfortable yet
encountered, everybody settled down in the best place he could find,
and proceeded to make himself remarkably snug.

Battalion Headquarters and the officers of "A" Company were billeted
in an imposing mansion which actually boasted a bathroom. It is true
that there was no water, but this deficiency was soon made good by a
string of officers' servants bearing buckets. Beginning with Colonel
Kemp, who was preceded by an orderly bearing a small towel and a large
loofah, each officer performed a ceremonial ablution; and it was a
collection of what Major Wagstaffe termed "bright and bonny young
faces" which collected round the Mess table at seven o'clock.

It was in every sense a gala meal. Firstly, it was weeks since any one
(except Second Lieutenant M'Corquodale, newly joined, and addressed,
for painfully obvious reasons, as "Tich") had found himself at table
in an apartment where it was possible to stand upright. Secondly,
the Mess President had coaxed glass tumblers out of the ancient
_concierge_; and only those who have drunk from enamelled ironware
for weeks on end can appreciate the pure joy of escape from the
indeterminate metallic flavour which such vessels impart to all
beverages. Thirdly, these same tumblers were filled to the brim
with inferior but exhilarating champagne--purchased, as they
euphemistically put it in the Supply Column, "locally." Lastly, the
battalion had several months of hard fighting behind it, probably
a full month's rest before it, and the cons