is kneeling
on and interrupts, "Well, my _brother_ heard----I say, where did you
put my scissors?"

"Well," smiled Celia, "Lorna's brother in the War Office says the war
will be over by Christmas."

"Hooray," I said; and I went out and looked at my cigar.

This cigar arrived at my house in a case of samples last July. The
samples went up from right to left in order of importance, each in his
own little bed--until you got to Torpedo Jimmy at the end, who had a
double bed to himself. Starting with _Cabajo fino_ in the right-hand
corner, the prices ranged from about nine a penny to five pounds apiece,
the latter being the approximate charge for T. James or any of his
brethren.

Celia was looking over my shoulder when I opened the case, and she
surveyed my brown friends with interest.

"When are you going to smoke _that_ one?" she asked, touching Torpedo
Jimmy's cummerbund with the tip of her finger.

"On your birthday," I said.

"Bother, then I shan't see much of you. Couldn't you smoke it on two
ordinary days instead?"

"You can only smoke a cigar that size after a very good dinner," I
explained.

"What was the matter with the tapioca pudding last night?" said Celia
sternly.

"I mean you must have champagne and bands and lots of lights, and
managers bowing all round you, and pretty people in the distance,
and--all that sort of thing. You can't do that at home. Besides, I shall
want a waiter or two to hold the far end of it while I'm smoking. It'll
be all right going there; we can put it on the top of a cab."

"Of course it will be lovely going out with you," said Celia, "but Jane
will be very disappointed. She'd have liked to hear it buzzing."

"I hope it won't buzz," I said.

"Couldn't you smoke it now, and then we'd go out next week and celebrate
your recovery." She sighed. "My birthday's a long way off," she said
wistfully, thinking of the band and the lights and the pretty people in
the distance--and not necessarily in the distance either.

"Well, p'raps we'll think of another excuse. Anyhow it will be a very
great day, and if I survive we shall often look back upon it."

Celia stroked it again.

"It's just like a torpedo, isn't it?" she said. And so we called it
Torpedo Jimmy. A torpedo is actually a little bit bigger. Not much,
however.

That was July. When August came we knew that there would be no excuse
before the birthday and that the birthday would be no excuse. The great
dinner was pos