"Seventy-five per cent. of the world's accidents arise from gross carelessness!" I thundered at Suzanne, who for the fifteenth time in five years of matrimony had left her umbrella in the 'bus. Being on a month's leave, and afraid of losing by neglect the orderly-room touch, I thought fit to practise on her the arts of admonition. Admonishing, I wagged at her the match with which I was in the act of lighting my pipe. Wagging the match, I did not notice the live head drop off on to the khaki slacks which I had donned that afternoon to grace a visit to the War Office. Only when I traced Suzanne's petrified stare to its target did I discover that a ventilation hole had been created in a vital part of His Majesty's uniform. With great presence of mind I put out the conflagration before venturing on an encounter with Suzanne's eye. "You were discussing accidents," she observed sweetly. "What percentage of them did you say was due to gross carelessness?" I did not bandy words. There was no escaping the fact that they were, as Suzanne reminded me, my sole surviving pair of khaki slacks, and that I should certainly have to get a new pair before returning to the Depot; for these were obviously beyond wear or repair. "Well, anyhow I've three weeks to get them in," I said as lightly as I could. "My leave isn't up till the end of the month." "Men's clothes are terribly dear just now," remarked Suzanne pensively. "And I _was_ going to ask you to give me a new hat. But now I suppose--" This roused my pride and self-respect. "Suzanne," I said, "the world is not coming to an end because I have to buy a pair of slacks. You shall have your new hat to-morrow." She clapped her hands in triumph, and a moment's reflection showed me that I had been caught. If it hadn't been for the conflagration she would never have dared to ask for a new hat. Now I came to remember, I had taken her out and bought her one on the first day of my leave. However, the damage was done (twice over, in fact), and I sat gently brooding over it in silence. Suddenly an inspiring thought struck me. Eagerly I made my way to the writing-table and drew out a long and bulky envelope from the bottom drawer. For some time I sat there carefully mastering its contents. "What's that funny-looking thing you're reading?" asked my wife at last. "Oh, nothing important," I answered as casually as I could. "Er--by the way, do you know we're insured?" "Considering that I've paid the premiums regularly while you were away, I should think I ought to know." "Of course I shall put in a claim for the slacks," I murmured. "But how can you?" she asked, and wondering looked at me. "I read the policy once, and as far as I remember there's nothing whatever about khaki slacks in it." "Do you know what this policy is?" I exclaimed, brandishing the document impressively. "It's a Comprehensive Householder's policy. I don't know what a Comprehensive Householder is, but I think I must be one."