over and it worked."

"Splendid!" said Grigson brightly. "A nice bit of work, and very
thoughtful of you to bring home such jolly souvenirs."

"Look here," replied Toddles with warmth, "who the devil are you
getting at?"

"Nothing; oh, nothing at all."

Grigson moved away towards the Mess. "By the way," he said, "you're
quite certain they were your own shots? I should have a good look at
that under carriage if I were you."

We all went down on hands and knees. Lying placidly in the rack with
an air of well-merited ease born of the consciousness that they had,
without any effort of their own, avoided a fatiguing duty, were three
large bombs.

"Er--ah--hum," said Toddles. "Now then, Sergeant, hurry up and get
this machine back into the shed!"

And the Sergeant's face was the best joke of all.

* * * * *

"Man, handy at vice, been in motor repair shop."--_Daily
Chronicle_.

Still, it must not be assumed that life in a garage is necessarily