and its humours; consequently he knew exactly what he was expected
to do. When Williams entered, in all the glory of a Captain's stars,
perhaps even a Major's crown, the ribbon of the D.S.O. or the M.C., or
both, on his breast, he, Corporal Phillybag, would spring smartly to
attention, salute and address his junior clerk as "Sir."

He chuckled with delight as he visualised the piquant scene. Reseating
himself, he would briskly resume his interrupted work for a moment
while be kept his superior officer waiting. Then--

"Mr. Williams to see you, Sir," said one of his clerks.

"Show him in at once."

On his appearance Mr. Phillybag suffered a slight recoil, but
recovered himself quickly and exchanged embarrassed greetings. An
awkward pause followed. At length Mr. Phillybag broke it.

"Williams," he said severely, "I'm surprised at you. Who ever heard
of an employee returning to civil life from the Army with a lower
rank than the one his employer holds? Four years in khaki and only a
lance-corporal! You've spoiled my whole morning. It's men with
careers like yours who make the profession of humorous journalism so
precarious."

* * * * *

A SOUVENIR OF COLOGNE.

"Am I really awake, or is it all a beautiful dream?" I said, pinching