The Corporal began to expostulate, but the Sergeant adopted the none-of-that-I-know-all-about-your-sort attitude which is so admirable in these officials.  The Corporal produced some papers and tendered them indignantly.  The Police Sergeant remained impassively unconvinced, but gave me one fleeting look, as if he wondered whether I had put him on to a good thing.  “There are papers and papers,” said I, as if I too knew all about the business.  “Let us see if they are in order.”  The Sergeant’s instinct had already told him that the papers were quite in order, and he was all for cutting the business short and getting out of it as quickly as he could.  But I insisted upon the most minute examination and would not give in and admit my mistake until the Sergeant practically ordered us both off the station.

Having given the Sergeant to understand that he was to blame for the Corporal’s papers being in order, I allowed myself to be passed on.  The Corporal followed me; he wanted an explanation.  When we got outside the station I let him catch me up, because I thought he was entitled to one.

“Will you allow me to ask why you did that, Sir?” he said very indignantly but not rudely.  “You knew that I had my papers, Sir, and that they were in order.”

“Yes,” I said.  “But I knew that my own weren’t.”

His cheeks suffused with the most jovial red I have ever seen.

“In the very strictest confidence, Corporal,” I said, “I haven’t any papers.”

I didn’t know that a human laugh could be so loud.  On the whole I think it was a good thing that we had arrived in Paris after closing time, since otherwise, in spite of my dislike of the stuff, I’m sure that three more bottles of the most expensive brand would have been cracked.  I should have had to stand one; he would have positively insisted on standing two.

Yours ever,

HENRY.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Skipper of Drifter (who has been fined thirty-five shillings for losing a pair of binoculars). “PROPER JUSTICE I CALLS IT; MY BROTHER-IN-LAW LOSES HIS WHOLE BLINKING DRIFTER AND YOU DON’T FINE ’IM A BLOOMING CENT.”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Tommy. “‘E’S A WONDER AN’ NO MISTAKE.  I CAN’T TEACH MY OLD DAWG AT HOME TO DO ANYTHINK.”

Pal. “AH, BUT YER SEE, MATEY, YOU ’AVE TO KNOW MORE ’N A DAWG, OR YER CAN’T LEARN ’IM NUTHIN.”]

* * * * *

A SIGN OF THE TIMES.

    “YOUNG LADY Wants post as Housekeeper to working man.”—­Halifax
    Evening Courier.

* * * * *

    “Planers (large letters) Wanted, for machine tool work; good
    bonus; war work; permanent job.”—­Daily Dispatch.

Pessimist!

* * * * *

“WHAT DISABLED SOLDIERS SHOULD KNOW.