Haynes, who came next, insisted on first making his dying speech from
the window, for, as he pointed out to Sister, when people allowed
themselves to be inserted alive into machines of this type there was
every likelihood of their reappearing at the other end in the form of
sausages. Seymour handed Sister a bulky package labelled "WILL" before
starting, and most of us managed to be mildly humorous in some way or
other.

Mrs. Ropes, on the lawn, enjoyed it all immensely; and so did Ansell,
who was standing beside her with an air of detachment. Sister's eagle
eye singled him out.

"Come along, Mr. Ansell," she called. "I see you--your turn next. No
shirking."

"I'm not in this, Sister," he answered loftily.

"Oh, indeed! And why not?"

"Because I sleep on the verandah. If there's a fire I simply get out
of bed and step into the garden."

"Oh, no, you don't," put in Seymour. "That would be entirely contrary
to regulations. The official method of escaping from burning buildings
is down the official chute. In case of fire your correct procedure
will be to double smartly upstairs, commend your soul to Providence in
a soldier-like manner, and toboggan smartly down."

(Have I mentioned that Seymour is an Adjutant?)