[Illustration: _Raw Hand_ (_at sea for first time and observing
steamer's red and green lights_). "'ERE'S SOME LIGHTS ON THE STARBOARD
SIDE, SIR."

_Officer_. "WELL, WHAT IS IT?"

_R.H_. "LOOKS TO ME LIKE A CHEMIST'S SHOP, SIR."]

* * * * *

SMALL-TALK.

"Of course you must come," said Mary; "it's nonsense to say you can't
dance."

Mary is married to my first cousin, Thomas. I looked at Thomas, but
saw no hope of support. Thomas labours under the delusion that he can
jazz.

"It isn't only the dancing," I protested; "it's the conversational
strain. Besides, as one of the original founders of the League to
Minimise Gossip amongst General Staff Officers--"

"Rot!" said Thomas; "you simply let your partners do the talking.
You needn't even listen. Just say 'Quite' in your most official tone
whenever you hear them saying nothing."

Thomas, although my first cousin, is not bright; but I had to go.