s
and manicure-set in tortoise-shell with his crest in silver, bottles
of scent with spray attachments; the onyx bowl of bath salts beside
the hip-bath ready to be filled from the ewers of hot and cold
water--the Deanery, old-fashioned house, had but one family bath-room;
the deep purple silk dressing-gown over the foot-rail of the bed, the
silk pyjamas in a lighter shade spread out over the pillow, the silk
underwear and soft-fronted shirt fitted with his ruby and diamond
sleeve-links, hung up before the fire to air; the dinner jacket suit
laid out on the glass-topped Chippendale table, with black tie and
delicate handkerchief; the silk socks carefully tucked inside out, the
glossy pumps with the silver shoe-horn laid across them.

"My God! Peddle," cried Doggie, scratching his closely cropped head.
"What the devil's all this?"

Peddle, grey, bent, uncomprehending, regarded him blankly.

"All what, sir?"

"I only want to wash my hands," said Doggie.

"But aren't you going to dress for dinner, sir?"

"A private soldier's not allowed to wear mufti, Peddle. They'd dock me
of a week's pay if they found out."

"Who's to find out, sir?"

"There's Mr. Oliver--he's a Major."

"Lord, Mr. Marmaduke, I don't think he'd mind. Miss Peggy gave me my
orders, sir, and I think you can leave things to her."

"All right, Peddle," he laughed. "If it's Miss Peggy's decree, I'll
change. I've got all I want."

"Are you sure you can manage, sir?" Peddle asked anxiously, for time
was when Doggie couldn't stick his legs into his trousers unless
Peddle held them out for him.

"Quite," said Doggie.

"It seems rather roughing it here, Mr. Marmaduke, after what you've
been accustomed to at the Hall."

"That's so," said Doggie. "And it's martyrdom compared with what it is
in the trenches. There we always have a major-general to lace up our
boots, and a field-marshal's always hovering round to light our
cigarettes."

Peddle, who had never known him to jest, or his father before him,
went out in a muddled frame of mind, leaving Doggie to struggle into
his dress trousers as best he might.

CHAPTER XX

When Doggie, in dinner suit, went downstairs, he found Peggy alone in
the drawing-room. She gave him the kiss of one accustomed to kiss him
from childhood, and sat down again on the fender-stool.

"Now you look more like a Christian gentleman," she laughed. "Confess.
It's much more comfortable than your wretched private's