s, his former junior clerk. He
remembered Williams well--how in the early days of the War that youth
had seen Lord KITCHENER point his finger from the hoardings at him,
and there and then, discovering that the Ordnance Department possessed
a cap, size 6-7/8, which fitted him, had followed instructions and
immediately commenced to wear it. Now he had written to Mr. Phillybag
to inform him that, as he expected to be demobilised shortly, he was
calling at eleven o'clock to discuss the question of re-entering his
employ.

Mr. Phillybag rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. He was
looking forward to the interview. Since Armistice Day he had read
every article he could find written on the subject of demobilisation
and its humours; consequently he knew exactly what he was expected
to do. When Williams entered, in all the glory of a Captain's stars,
perhaps even a Major's crown, the ribbon of the D.S.O. or the M.C., or
both, on his breast, he, Corporal Phillybag, would spring smartly to
attention, salute and address his junior clerk as "Sir."

He chuckled with delight as he visualised the piquant scene. Reseating
himself, he would briskly resume his interrupted work for a moment
while be kept his superior officer waiting. Then--

"Mr. Williams to see you, Sir," said one of his clerks.

"Show him in at once."

On his appearance Mr. Phillybag suffered a slight recoil, but
recovered himself quickly and exchanged embarrassed greetings. An
awkward pause followed. At length Mr. Phillybag broke it.

"Williams," he said severely, "I'm surprised at you. Who ever heard
of an employee returning to civil life from the Army with a lower
rank than the one his employer holds? Four years in khaki and only a
lance-corporal! You've spoiled my whole morning. It's men with
careers like yours who make the profession of humorous journalism so
precarious."

* * * * *

A SOUVENIR OF COLOGNE.

"Am I really awake, or is it all a beautiful dream?" I said, pinching
myself to make sure.

At the other end of the room an unmistakably German band was playing
"Roses of Picardy," while all around me German waiters were running
about deferentially, with trays in their hands. Even as I wondered one
of them approached and laid the bill on my table with a friendly smile
and "Tree mark, bleesir."

Then I remembered that I was at the British Officers' Club in Cologne.

"How interested they will be at home," I though