“Humbug” and “Bunkum” are favourite words of his. He generally dismisses remarks and stops discussion by the use of either or both. His solitary term of praise is the word “respectable” and he uses it sparingly, being as far as he can conscientiously go in approval of any one; he thus eulogizes those who live within their means and have never been known to be hard up. People who are hard up are “wasters.” No one has any business to be hard up; “respectable” men live on what they’ve got. If any one were to ask him how people are to live within their means when they’ve not got any, he would reply with the word “bunkum” and clinch the argument with a grunt. It will be understood that conversation with Mr. Adolf Reiss is not easy. * * * * * A knock on the door. Mr. Reiss’s servant announces some one and withdraws. Intuitively Mr. Reiss, who is rather deaf, and has not caught the name, grasps the paper and hides behind it. From long experience he has discovered the utility of the newspaper as a sort of parapet behind which he can better await attack. A slight figure in khaki advances into the room, observes the newspaper above the legs and smiles slightly. “Hello, uncle!” It’s a fresh young voice. Mr. Reiss grunts, slowly lowers the paper and gazes at the youth over his eyeglasses. “Oh, it’s you. When did you come up?” “Just arrived, uncle. We’re ordered out. I thought I’d look you up at once as there are one or two things--” “Eh--what?” Among Mr. Reiss’s characteristics is a disconcerting habit of making people repeat their remarks. This is deliberate and its purpose twofold--to gain time and to embarrass the person addressed. The young fellow sits down rather uncomfortably and begins again-- “We’re ordered out, you know--” “No, I didn’t know. How could I? You never write--” Mr. Reiss consolidates his defence with the pretence of a grievance. “I didn’t know myself until yesterday. They don’t give one much time, you know.” “They--who?” “The War Office people. You see, our first battalion has had a lot of casualties and three of us subs are being taken from the third. We’ve got to join the day after to-morrow. Bit of a rush. And I’ve got things to get. I’m afraid I must ask you to give me a leg up, uncle. I’m a bit short--” “Short? Why, you’ve got an ample allowance besides your pay and the Government pays for your outfit at an extravagant rate.” Mr. Reiss never ceases denouncing the extravagance of the Government. He now adjusts his glasses and glowers at the youngster, who fidgets under the scrutiny. “Yes, I know. I--” he stammers. “Well--well?” “The fact is--when Staples, our captain, went back--he--I--” A grunt. Then, “Eh--what?” “He was engaged, you know.” “Well--well?” irritably. “I can’t explain, uncle, if you don’t give me a chance.” Another grunt. “Jimmie--I mean Staples--wanted to give his girl a ring before he went back. He hadn’t enough money--so I lent him fifty pounds.”