berts was
leading man at the establishment to which I have referred. He usually
came on about half-past eight, just as the show was beginning to lose
its first wind. His entrance was a most tremendous affair. First of
all the entire chorus blew in from the wings--about sixty of them
in ten seconds--saying "Hurrah, hurrah, girls!" or something rather
subtle of that kind; after which minor characters rushed on from
opposite sides and told one another that Arthur Roberts was coming.
Then the band played, and everybody began to tell the audience about
it in song. When everything was in full blast, the great man would
appear--stepping out of a bathing-machine, or falling out of a
hansom-cab, or sliding down a chute on a toboggan. He was assisted
to his feet by the chorus, and then proceeded to ginger the show up.
Well, that's how this present entertainment impresses me. All this
noise and obstreperousness are leading up to one thing--Kaiser Bill's
entrance. Preliminary bombardment--that's the chorus getting to work!
Minor characters--the trench-mortars--spread the glad news! Band _and_
chorus--that's the grand attack working up to boiling-point! Finally,
preceded by clouds of gas, the Arch-Comedian in person, supported
by spectacled coryphees in brass hats! How's that for a Christmas
pantomime?"

"Rotten!" said Bobby, as a shell sang over the parapet and burst in
the wood behind.

II

Kaiser or no Kaiser, Major Wagstaffe's extravagant analogy held good.
As Christmas drew nearer, the band played louder and faster; the
chorus swelled higher and shriller; and it became finally apparent
that something (or somebody) of portentous importance was directing
the storm.

Between six and seven next morning, the Battalion, which had stood
to arms all night, lifted up its heavy head and sniffed the misty
dawn-wind--an east wind--dubiously. Next moment gongs were clanging
up and down the trench, and men were tearing open the satchels which
contained their anti-gas helmets.

Major Wagstaffe, who had been sent up from Battalion Headquarters to
take general charge of affairs in the firing-trench, buttoned the
bottom edge of his helmet well inside his collar and clambered up on
the firing-step to take stock of the position. He crouched low, for a
terrific bombardment was in progress, and shells were almost grazing
the parapet.

Presently he was joined by a slim young officer similarly disguised.
It was the Commander of "A" Company