He mutters a military oath against the D.A.D.H.C. Then his face
clears.

"Tigers?" he suggests hopefully.

"We might do a green tiger," she says reluctantly.

"With yellow stripes!" shouts the H.C.

"On a mauve background," says she, warming to it.

And so one division is disposed of. But it is not always so, of
course.

After a Hun counter-attack, for instance, the H.C. may gaze morosely
on his geometrical figures and throw off a little thing in triangles
and St. Andrew's crosses. Or when the moon is at the full you may
have a violet allotted to you as your symbol. One never knows. My
own divisional sign, for instance, is an iddy-umpty plain on a field
plainer. We vary the heraldry by ringing changes on the colours. On
our brigade arm-band it becomes an iddy-umpty gules on a field azure.
If I could be quite sure of the heraldic slang for puce I would tell
you what it is on our Army Corps arm-band. On a waggon it used to be
an iddy-umpty blank on a field muddy. But administrative genius has
changed all that. A routine order, the other day, ordered a pink
border to be painted round it, and this first simple essay of the
departed Morse goes now through the villages of France in a bed of
roses.