“A dead Volunteer. We must play him through.” Again I looked forward and saw the top of a hearse, followed by two mourning-coaches, boring directly up the halted regiment, which opened out company by company to let it through. “But they’ve got the whole blessed square to funeralise in!” I exclaimed. “Why don’t they go round?” “Not so!” Pigeon replied. “In this city it’s the Volunteer’s perquisite to be played through by any corps he happens to meet on his way to the cemetery. And they make the most of it. You’ll see.” I heard the order, “Rest on your arms,” run before the poor little procession as the men opened out. The driver pulled the black Flanders beasts into a more than funeral crawl, and in the first mourning-coach I saw the tearful face of a fat woman (his mother, doubtless), a handkerchief pressed to one eye, but the other rolling vigilantly, alight with proper pride. Last came a knot of uniformed men—privates, I took it—of the dead one’s corps. Said a man in the crowd beside us to the girl on his arm, “There, Jenny! That’s what I’ll get if I ’ave the luck to meet ’em when my time comes.” “You an’ your luck,” she snapped. “’Ow can you talk such silly nonsense?” “Played through by the Guard,” he repeated slowly. “The undertaker ’oo could guarantee _that_, mark you, for all his customers—well, ’e’d monopolise the trade, is all I can say. See the horses passagin’ sideways!” “She done it a purpose,” said the woman with a sniff. “An’ I only hope you’ll follow her example. Just as long as you think I’ll keep, too.” We reclosed when the funeral had left us twenty paces behind. A small boy stuck his head out of a carriage and watched us jealously. “Amazing! Amazing!” I murmured. “Is it regulation?” “No. Town-custom. It varies a little in different cities, but the people value being played through more than most things, I imagine. Duddell, the big Ipswich manufacturer—he’s a Quaker—tried to bring in a bill to suppress it as unchristian.” Pigeon laughed. “And?” “It cost him his seat next election. You see, we’re all in the game.” We reached the Park without further adventure, and found the four company-guns with their spike teams and single drivers waiting for us. Many people were gathered here, and we were halted, so far as I could see, that they might talk with the men in the ranks. The officers broke into groups. “Why on earth didn’t you come along with me?” said Boy Bayley at my side. “I was expecting you.” “Well, I had a delicacy about brigading myself with a colonel at the head of his regiment, so I stayed with the rear company and the horses. It’s all too wonderful for any words. What’s going to happen next?” “I’ve handed over to Verschoyle, who will amuse and edify the school children while I take you round our kindergarten. Don’t kill any one, Vee. Are you goin’ to charge ’em?”