"Yes, he'll get £5. He made a lot of difficulty about that."

"You don't mean to say he jibbed about getting his money back?"

"That's precisely what did happen. He said he'd _given_ the money for
cartridge buying, and how could he take it back with a bit extra after the
cartridges had been bought. He's really rather annoyed about it."

"I shall tell him," I said, "not to let it worry him, and shall explain to
him how much _per cent._ he's getting _per annum_."

"You'll have to work it out yourself first of all," she said, "and I know
you can't do that. And, by the way, you may as well be ready for him; he's
going to ask you if he may join the Army as a drummer-boy."

"What on earth's put that into his head?"

"He's been talking to the Sergeant-Major, and he's invented a musical
instrument of his own. It's made out of a cardboard box, some pins and two
or three elastic bands. There it is--you'll find its name inscribed on it."

I took it up and saw inscribed upon it in large pencilled letters this
strange device: "THE TIPINBANOLA; made for soldiers only."

"Francesca," I said, "it's a superb name. Where did he get it from?"

"Out of his head," she said.

"I wonder," I said, "if he keeps any arithmetic there?"