The advent of a joint more accustomed to shafts than to skewers, however, was a horse of a different colour; so different, in fact, that all the virtues of a great common kitchen, the saving it would effect, and the good side of Collectivism generally, dawned simultaneously upon everybody by some magical inspiration.  The advantages of a Soup-house were at once recognised, and the wisdom of such a creation was immediately acclaimed by a host of astute correspondents.  The idea took root, germinated, “caught on,” so to say, as the one and only panacea for our ills.  So strongly was the scheme approved that arrangements for the flotation of a semi-philanthropic, semi-military company were settled forthwith.  All the best names available (for reasons which will be more obvious in due time) were placed on the list of Directors.  Mr. Rhodes, the millionaire, would not lend his name for inscription on a prospectus that was not bona fide; and such respected signatories as Mr. and Mrs. Maguire, Doctor Smartt (who also was “well,” bedad), and other public personages of high character and probity were a good guarantee for the quality and purity of the State Soup; while the skill of Captain Tyson (who undertook the duties of honorary chef) was incontestable.  All these names were easily procured.  It was laid down with solemn emphasis, as a primary article of faith, that the soup was to be made from oxflesh, and nothing but oxflesh.  The horse was to be banned!  That was the cardinal condition of the success anticipated for the venture; and the guarantees on this head were, in view of the status of the guarantors, accepted unreservedly.  Mr. Rhodes, indeed, went a step further than the rest; he guaranteed a contribution of vegetables from the De Beers garden; and the Colonel, not to be outdone, permitted the soup to be thickened with mealie meal.  The allowance was to be at the rate of one pint per adult, at three-pence per pint.  That the value given for the humble “tickey” was good the success of the scheme proved beyond contention.  Hundreds of pints were disposed of—­the Directors in person superintending the sale and wielding the ladles.  The supply did not at first correspond with the demand; thousands who had assembled with their jugs were turned away disappointed.  The great things expected from the Kitchen were realised; the excellence and the flavour of the broth surpassed expectations.  The ordinary meat ticket sufficed, and its presentation at the Kitchen entitled the holder to as many pints of soup as (and in lieu of) the number of meat rations for which the ticket was good.  The fame of the broth travelled far.  Egg-cup-fuls of the liquid were exultingly passed round to the wary, suspicious ones; and these proud sceptics by extending to it the charity of their silence most eloquently admitted the groundlessness of their horsey apprehensions.