"'Eard from 'is girl at last," said Private Brant to the others, indicating Grimes by a jerk of the head. "'Dear 'Arold, when are you goin' to send me the bewtiful ring you're makin'?' she says." "Ring, is it?" said Parker. "Looks as if it would be more like a kid's 'oop, when it's finished. She must 'ave a finger like two thumbs. Grimes, old son, you can take it from me she won't give you a blanky thank-you for it. Lummy, look at the jools!"--and in the firelight they saw the glint of red and blue against the polished strip of metal. "Is she young and fair, Grimes?" asked a humourist. "If she was 'ere she'd teach you manners," said Private Grimes. The jewels were pieces of glass from a shattered church-window. Grimes was pleased with them, and even whistled a note or two as he worked. "Won't give me a thank-you, eh?" he thought, with a bit of a smile. Three weeks later he went home on leave. She was not at Victoria (whoever she was). His visit would be a surprise for her. He got off the tram at Vauxhall and turned into the narrow side-streets. From the yard of a brewery in the distance a van was emerging. A big red-faced man was on the dickey, and on a barrel beside him was something white. Grimes whistled; and the white patch leapt into vigorous life, giving out glad barks and little impatient whines. "Wot cher, Grimey!" called the driver, as he pulled up to lower the wriggling patch of white to the road; and Bess, an ecstatic bull-terrier, with the gladdest of pink-rimmed eyes, came bounding towards the soldier. He caught her up and took a good look at her. She licked his unwashed unshaven face. "Looks all right, don't she, Grimey?" asked the other a little anxiously. "Never 'ad a thing to eat but wot you said, all the time." "Looks a treat, Bill," said Bess's master; and Bill knew that this was high-praise. "'Ere, Bess, 'ere's a sooveneer," said Grimes. He put her down and, taking her paw in his hand, bent and fastened into place that strip of waste war-metal, ornamented with bits of saints from an old church window in Flanders. * * * * * The Preparatory Course. Application just received on behalf of a young lady who is anxious to do War-service as a teacher in an elementary school:-- "She has had some little test of her powers of discipline, as she has started and trained a pack of Wolf Cubs in the parish." * * * * * [Illustration: _Farmer._ "NOW LET ME SEE IF YOU CAN MILK THAT COW." _Girl (by vocation barmaid--regarding the horns)._ "WHICH HANDLE'S FOR THE MILK AND WHICH FOR THE CREAM?"] * * * * * AT THE PLAY. "THE RIDDLE." [Illustration: THE WOLF AND THE RIVAL SLEUTH-HOUNDS. _Mrs. Lytton_ Miss IRENE VANBRUGH. _William Rigg_ Mr. OSWALD MARSHALL. _James Stronach, K.C._ Mr. DION BOUCICAULT.]