Not so the officer. He suffers from _embarras de choix_. He is the victim of his female relatives, who are themselves the victims of those enterprising tradesmen who have adopted the most obvious method of getting rid of otherwise unsaleable goods by labelling everything _For Active Service_--a really happy thought when you are trying to sell a pipe of port or a manicure set. Have you seen Our Active Service Trouser-Press? By the end of April Bobby Little had accumulated, with a view to facilitating the destruction of the foe-- An automatic Mauser pistol, with two thousand rounds of ammunition. A regulation Service revolver. A camp bed. A camp table. A camp chair. A pneumatic mattress. [This ingenious contrivance was meant to be blown up, like an air-cushion, and Bobby's servant expended most of the day and much valuable breath in performing the feat. Ultimately, in a misguided attempt to save his lungs from rupture, he employed a bicycle pump, and burst the bed.] A sleeping (or "flea") bag. A portable bath. A portable washhand-stand. A dressing-case, heavily ballasted with cut-glass bottles. A primus stove. A despatch case. The "Service" Kipling (about forty volumes.) Innumerable socks and shirts. A box of soap. Fifty boxes of matches. A small medicine chest. About a dozen first-aid outfits. A case of pipes, and cigarettes innumerable. [Bobby's aunts regarded cigars as not quite ascetic enough for active service. Besides, they might make him sick.] About a cubic foot of chocolate (various). Numerous compressed foods and concentrated drinks. An "active service" cooking outfit. An electric lamp, with several refills. A pair of binoculars. A telescope. A prismatic compass. A sparklet siphon. A luminous watch. A pair of insulated wire-cutters. "There's only one thing you've forgotten," remarked Captain Wagstaffe, when introduced to this unique collection of curios. "What is that?" inquired Bobby, always eager to learn. "A pantechnicon! Do you known how much personal baggage an officer is allowed, in addition to what he carries himself?" "Thirty-five pounds." "Correct." "It sounds a lot," said Bobby. "It looks precious little!" was Wagstaffe's reply. "I suppose they won't be particular to a pound or so," said Bobby optimistically.