"Well, it is part of 'is peace-time job, anyway. Don't I tell yer 'e brought Aladdin a princess?" "I'll try it. Any'ow, it'll be a change for 'im arter all that beer." Eustace, it was obvious, approved of the idea. This new command was completely in accord with his ancient tradition. "A maid fair as the dawn, great Master! It shall be so!" he said. "Yes, and"--Alf suddenly remembered a recent abortive attempt to dally with a pretty French girl in an estaminet, and determined to run no further risks--"a English one." "'Ere," put in Bill. "Make it two." But the djinn had vanished. "All right, Bill," Higgins said soothingly. "We'll send 'im back for one for you. Wonder what 'e'll bring for me--one of the 'Ippodrome chorus, I 'ope." * * * * * * * Lady Margaret Clowes and Isobel FitzPeter were walking together along the edge of the Row in Hyde Park. Margaret was wearing the workman-like, if unbeautiful, Red Cross uniform, for she was a hard-working V.A.D. at a private hospital. Isobel was a dainty vision, rivaling the lilies of the field. "Did I tell you I'd had another letter from my cousin at the front?" asked Margaret. "Which one?" "Denis. Denis Allen. He sent you his kind regards. He's a nice boy. Do you remember him?" "Hardly at all. He played cricket at Dunwater once or twice when I was a child. Really, Peggy, I'm getting fed up with men. Since those ridiculous papers took to publishing my photograph, every silly boy I've ever spoken to seems to want me to write to him." "Why do you let them do it?" asked Margaret. "I can't stop them writing to me, if they know my address." "The papers, I mean. It's all very well calling them ridiculous, but you know that you give them every assistance." "Rubbish!" Isobel's voice sounded scornful, but a sudden blush gave her away. Margaret, who had just come off duty after an unusually exacting spell, was rather out of patience with field-lilies. She returned to the attack. "It isn't rubbish. And I don't think you ought to talk about the boys who write to you as you do. You make me very angry. After all, they are risking their lives, which is more than you can say." "Well, how can I? I've often told you I'd love to go to the front," Isobel protested. "Yes--in a spirit of vulgar curiosity, I suppose, just to have a look round. Iso, I could shake you, you're so self-satisfied, and so futile." "Well, I think you're horribly rude. If you can't be more amusing, I'm going home. I've my part to learn for...." "Oh--look! there's a horse bolting!" interrupted Margaret. She ran to the railings and watched breathlessly, while the mounted policeman on duty, who seemed to regard the whole affair as being in the day's work, caught the runaway and averted what might have been a very nasty accident. When she turned to speak to her companion, Isobel was no longer there.