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'Dormer, for instance, said Bobby, 'I think he comes under the head of fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl. 'That's where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn't a fool yet, but he's a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes fun of his socks before kit-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds pure brute, goes into a corner and growls. 'How do you know? said Bobby admiringly.

"Who's going to catch it?" I demanded. "Only our local Foreign Service Corps. Its C.O. has been boasting that it's en tat de partir, and Bayley's going to take him at his word and have a kit-inspection this afternoon in the Park. I must tell their drill-hall. Look over yonder between that brewery chimney and the mansard roof!"

"Not my pidgin," said Bayley. "But they wouldn't be in the corps a day if they couldn't shoot; I know that much. Now I'm going to go through 'em for socks and slippers." The kit-inspection exceeded anything I had ever dreamed. I drifted from company to company while the Guard officers oppressed them. Twenty per cent, at least, of the kits were shovelled out on the grass and gone through in detail.

"Dormer, for instance," said Bobby; "I think he comes under the head of fool-men. He mopes like a sick owl." "That 's where you make your mistake, my son. Dormer isn't a fool yet, but he's a dashed dirty soldier, and his room corporal makes fun of his socks before kit-inspection. Dormer, being two-thirds pure brute, goes into a corner and growls." "How do you know'?" said Bobby admiringly.