As the oddly assorted couple took their way down Pall Mall, the passers-by turned to stare. The sentries at Marlborough House saluted--Tally Ho appropriated and returned the salutes with a pre-occupied air--he was thinking now of the General’s white hat, and of how he desired it greatly to keep his mongoose ‘Bengy’ in--he was sure he had seen little windows in the top of it. ‘Perhaps the Genelal Sahib will takle it off again, and sclatchle his head as Blown does sometimes, den my will see,’ he reflected. Now they had arrived at the corner of St James’s Square, and the sweet-faced old sweeper at the crossing had made her double-barrelled bob to the sunburnt, white-haired veteran and the sun-browned, white-haired child. At the steps of a great service club the General halted, and took off his hat to mop his brow, for the day was hot, and his mind was perplexed. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said aloud to himself, ‘boy’s hungry--tiffin first, pump afterwards. Gawd bless me! What’s that?’ For Tally Ho, swelling with joy of verification, was threading his thumbs through the vent-holes of the white hat, and saying to himself with subdued emphasis: ‘My will makle two mores, _eke oper eke_’ (one upon the top of the other). ‘Devil you will!’ said the General, and feeling from the absorption of his guest’s eye that no time was to be lost, he hastily replaced his hat, and extended two fingers to assist Tally Ho up the steps. ‘No t’ank ’oo,’ said the latter; ‘my will runle up.’ He proceeded to mount the stairs on all-fours, and sat on the top step at the feet of the hall porter, awaiting the arrival of his distinguished but disconcerted host. ‘Gawd bless me! regular young budmâsh (rogue)--fine fellow, though--very fine fellow! Heh! Wilkins!’ he said, with a perplexed twirl of his moustache, to the unmoved janitor. ‘New member, General, or friend of yours only, sir? What name shall I enter, General?’ ‘This gentleman will tiffin with me, Wilkins. Name, heh! what?--Quite so. Mr--Tally Ho, sir,’ he said, turning to Tally Ho, who with his hat off was examining the tape machine in the hall with an interested eye, ‘the servant wishes to know your name, so that he may put it in the visitors’ book. What shall I tell him?’ ‘Geoffley Standin’ Blount,’ returned Tally Ho. His knees were grubby, his hat was torn, his seat was dusty, but he looked very much of a gentleman.