THE MUD LARKS.

"So," said Albert Edward, "I clapped him on the back and said, 'You
were at Geelong College in 1910, and your name's Cazenove, isn't it?'"

"To which he made reply, 'My name's Jones and I never heard of
Geewhizz,' and knocked you down and trod on you for your dashed
familiarity," said the Babe.

"Nothing of the sort. He was delighted to meet me again--de-lighted.
He's coming to munch with us tomorrow evening, by the way, so you
might sport the tablecloth for once, William old dear, and tell the
cook to put it across Og, the fatted capon, and generally strive to
live down your reputation as the worst Mess President the world has
ever seen. You will, I know--for my sake."

Next morning, when I came down to breakfast, I found a note from him
saying that he had gone to the Divisional Races with his dear old
college chum, Cazenove; also the following addenda:--

"P.S.--If William should miss a few francs from the Mess Fund tell him
I will return it fourfold ere night. I am on to a sure thing.

"P.P.S.--If MacTavish should raise a howl about his fawn leggings,
tell him I have borrowed them for the day as I understand there will
be V.A.D.'s present, and _noblesse oblige_."

At a quarter past eight that night he returned, accompanied by a
pleasant-looking gunner subaltern, whom we gathered to be the Cazenove