And sure enough the mechanical soldier saluted.

“It’s not half a bad idea,” continued the agreeable A.D.C.  “You see sentry-go is awfully unpopular, and a figure of iron in times of peace is every bit as good as a man of brass.  The pence go to the Canteen Fund along with the fines for drunkenness.  It seems reasonable enough that a fellow, if he wants to be saluted, should pay for the swagger.  If a fellow likes to turn out the guard, he can do it with sixpence—­but then of course he hasn’t the right unless his rank permits it—­see?”

By this time the mechanical soldier had returned to the slope, and was parading his beat in a somewhat jerky manner.

“And now what would you fellows like to do?” asked the A.D.C.  “Pardon the familiarity, but nowadays age doesn’t count, does it?  Everybody’s young.  One of the best Juliets I ever knew had turned sixty, and played to a Romeo who was twenty years her senior.  Nothing like that down below, I suppose?”

“Nothing,” returned Mr. Punch.

“So I have always understood.  Well, where shall we go first?”

“Anywhere you like,” said the Sage of Fleet Street.  “But are you sure that we are not unduly trespassing on your time?”

[Illustration]

“Not at all—­only too delighted.  It’s all in the day’s work.  We have a lot of distinguished visitors that we have to take round.  I like it myself, but some of our fellows kick against it.  Of course it doesn’t refer to you two; but you can fancy what a nuisance it must be for all our fellows to have to get up in full rig, and bow and scrape, and march and countermarch, and go through the whole bag of tricks, to some third-rate Royalty?  Ah! they are happier off at Aldershot, aren’t they?”

“No doubt,” was the prompt reply.

Mr. Punch and Father TIME had now entered a barrack square, wherein a number of trembling recruits were standing in front of a sergeant.

“I am just putting them through their paces, Sir,” said he:  “they are a bit rusty in bowing drill.”

The A.D.C. nodded, and, turning on his heel, explained to the visitors that it was the object of the Authorities to introduce as much as possible of the civil element into the Army.

“You will see this idea carried out a little further in the institution we are now entering,” he added, as the three walked into a building that looked like a handsome Club-house.  At the door was an officer in the uniform of the Guards.

“Hullo, HUGHIE,” said the A.D.C., “on duty to-day?”

“As hall-porter.  CHARLIE is smoking-room waiter.  I say, do you want to take your friends round?”

“Well, I should like to let them get a glimpse of TOMMY ATKINS at his ease.”

“All right, you can pass.  But, I say, just warn them to keep quiet when they get near him.  We have had no end of a time to smooth him down.”

[Illustration]