The Boy was behind us, between two young F. S. officers, a hand on the shoulder of each. “Yes, that’s all doocid interesting,” he growled paternally. “But you forget, my sons, now that your men are bound to serve, you’re trebly bound to put a polish on ’em. You’ve let your company simply go to seed. Don’t try and explain. I’ve told all those lies myself in my time. It’s only idleness. _I_ know. Come and lunch with me to-morrow and I’ll give you a wrinkle or two in barracks.” He turned to me. “Suppose we pick up Vee’s defeated legion and go home. You’ll dine with us to-night. Good-bye, Ramsay. Yes, you’re _en état de partir_, right enough. You’d better get Lady Gertrude to talk to the Armity if you want the corps sent foreign. I’m no politician.” We strolled away from the great white statue of the Widow, with sceptre, orb, and crown, that looked toward the city, and regained the common, where the Guard battalion walked with the female of its species and the children of all its relatives. At sight of the officers the uniforms began to detach themselves and gather in companies. A Board School corps was moving off the ground, headed by its drums and fifes, which it assisted with song. As we drew nearer we caught the words, for they were launched with intention:— ’Oo is it mashes the country nurse? The Guardsman! ’Oo is it takes the lydy’s purse? The Guardsman! Calls for a drink, and a mild cigar, Batters a sovereign down on the bar, Collars the change and says “Ta-ta!” The Guardsman! “Why, that’s one of old Jemmy Fawne’s songs. I haven’t heard it in ages,” I began. “Little devils!” said Pigeon. “Speshul! Extra speshul! Sports Edition!” a newsboy cried. “’Ere y’are, Captain. Defeat o’ the Guard!” “I’ll buy a copy,” said the Boy, as Pigeon blushed wrathfully. “I must, to see how the Dove lost his mounted company.” He unfolded the flapping sheet and we crowded round it. “‘_Complete Rout of the Guard,_’” he read. “‘_Too Narrow a Front._’ That’s one for you, Vee! ‘_Attack Anticipated by Mr. Levitt, B. A._’ Aha! ‘_The Schools Stand Fast._’” “Here’s another version,” said Kyd, waving a tinted sheet. “‘_To your tents, O Israel! The Hebrew Schools stop the Mounted Troops._’ Pij, were you scuppered by Jewboys?” “‘_Umpires Decide all Four Guns Lost,_’” Bayley went on. “By Jove, there’ll have to be an inquiry into this regrettable incident, Vee!” “I’ll never try to amuse the kids again,” said the baited Verschoyle. “Children and newspapers are low things…. And I was hit on the nose by a wad, too! They oughtn’t to be allowed blank ammunition!”