"Your father?" queried the captain, who knew his man. "Yes, sor, he died wid consumption o’ the bowels." "But look here, Malone, your father died last year, for I remember giving you a pass and lending you a pound to go to the funeral." "That was the wife’s father." "How _many_ fathers _have_ you got?" "Wan, sor." "But look here, Malone, you’ve had about a dozen grandfathers, fathers, mothers, sisters, and wives who have died since mobilisation. You’re a bit of a liar—eh?" "Ach, sure, sor, ye know I’m dacent. I’ve only been in the guardhouse twice this month." "But why do you tell lies, Malone?" "Well, sor, to tell ye the truth, Widow Riley’s havin’ a dance for the bhoys. She’s a bit swate on me, an’ she’s asked me through." "That’s a different story. Why didn’t you tell me that at first?" "Sure, sor, I only told the truth once in me life, an’ the ould judge sentenced me to thirty days." "Well, you can have a pass—but, by the way, let me see that letter." Malone hesitated, then handed the captain the black-bordered epistle. This the company officer carefully perused. A smile crept over his face as he remarked—"Look here, Malone, this is the same letter that Cameron, M’Haggis, and Muldoon showed me when they wanted leave for a funeral." "Yis, sor." "You pass this round, I suppose?" "Yis, sor." "Well, you won’t pass it round any more, understand!" said the captain, tearing it up. "Yis, sor," replied Malone, saluting smartly, and marching off to report to his cronies how the captain had collared this general service document. Just as Captain Coronet reached the foot of the stairs he was met by Private Sneaky, a weedish-looking gent. "Well?" "I waant tae mak’ a complaint, sir." "What about?" "Private M’Ginty punched me for naethin’ at a’, an’ gied me a black e’e." "I see; well, come with me," said the captain, entering the billet and calling for M’Ginty. "Look here, M’Ginty, this man complains that you struck him without cause." "Well, sir, he’s a greedy yin. He’s pinched wan o’ the recruit’s dinner every day for a week, so I jist punched him on the nose." "Quite right, M’Ginty. If you get him at it again, knock his head off, and break every bone in his body. Get out, you scoundrel." Off tailed the little rascal, for in all regiments you will find a few undesirables. "Private M’Nab wishes to see you, sir," then remarked the colour-sergeant. "What is it, M’Nab," inquired the captain kindly, for M’Nab was a good soldier. "The wife’s bad, sir, an’ the wee boy’s got consumption. The doctor says they’re tae get steak, eggs, an’ beef-tea, but I canna’ dae that on a shillin’ a day." "I’m sorry to hear that, M’Nab—very sorry. But look here, I’ll write to the doctor to-day and tell him to buy everything that they need. Will that keep your mind easy?" "Thenk ye, sir. It’s awfu’ guid o’ ye." "And it’s very good of you, M’Nab, one with all your responsibilities, to serve your country. That’s why I do it."