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The Lord Petty Bag of the present ministry was not such a one as Harold Smith. He was a giant indifferent to his private notes, and careless as to the duties even of patronage; he rarely visited the office, and as there were no other clerks in the establishment owing to a root and branch reform carried out in the short reign of Harold Smith to whom could young Robarts talk, if not to Buggins?
"If the chamber will allow me to wander away from paper for a moment, and to open the sores of a bleeding heart " "Question, question," was then called by a jealous voice. "The enterprising and worthy Goose is perfectly in order," said the burly Buggins. "Many a good heart will bleed before long if this debate is to be choked and smothered by the cackle of the incapable."
Where we was last night that is, Buggins and I most respectable people in the copying line it isn't only he as does the copying, but she too; nurses the baby, and minds the kitchen fire, and goes on, sheet after sheet, all at the same time; and a very tidy thing they make of it, only they do straggle their words so; well, they were saying as it's one of the most remarkablest cases as ever was know'd."
"They're changing all those sort of things nowadays, Buggins," said Robarts, giving the final touch to the Turk's smoke. "Well; I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Robarts: I think I'll go. I can't stand all these changes. I'm turned of sixty now, and don't want any 'stifflicates. I think I'll take my pension and walk. The hoffice ain't the same place at all since it come down among the Commons."
And for five long minutes Folly had to wait. Then the masseuse went swiftly into action. Off came the mask and the long, moist bandages. As the bandages uncoiled, Marie rolled them up tightly and placed them, one after the other, on the glass shelves of a metal sterilizer. Buggins rolled up her white sleeves, and entered forthwith on the major rite.
Buggins, almost tearfully "It is not this world but the next, that we must think of! We must pray for our souls!" "Well, marm, I ain't got a 'soul' wot I knows on an' as for the next world, if there ain't no cattle farmin' there, I reckon I'll be out o' work. Do you count on keepin' a bar in the 'eavenly country?" A loud guffaw went the round of the room, and Mrs. Buggins gasped with horror.
Boy Buggins passed, via an industrial training ship, into the Royal Navy, and earned the Distinguished Conduct Medal before this particular sing-song had passed out of the minds of those who were present at it. One must conclude that all these things were, as the Arabs say, on his forehead. "Private Mason, R.M.L.I. Concertina Solo!"
This threat did not seem to weigh much, and by two o'clock on the day following Miss Dunstable's party, the fiat was presumed to have gone forth. The rumour had begun with Tom Towers, but by that time it had reached Buggins at the Petty Bag Office. "It won't make no difference to hus, sir; will it, Mr.
"Ay, ay!" said Roger Buggins, who as 'mine host' stood in his shirt sleeves at the entrance of his bar, surveying his customers and mentally counting up their reckonings "Cohesion would never do cohesion government would send the country to pieces. You're right, Mr. Netlips, you're right! Props must be kep' up!"
So he picks the plainly unfit men out of the drafts, and, after a tedious round of form filling, sends them back to England. There was, for instance, Private Buggins, whose case interested me so much that I should like very much to hear the end of his story. Private Buggins suffered from curvature of the spine. It was plain that he could not carry a pack for very long.
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