sash-bow, obi fashion. 'Hobble skirts,' he explained to Stalky, who nodded approval.
Next he split open the bottom of each sack so that they could walk, but with very short steps. 'I ought to have got you white satin slippers,' he murmured, 'and I'm sorry there's no rouge.'
'Don't worry on our account, old man—you're doing us proud,' said Bobby from under his hat. 'This beats milk-punch and mayonnaise.'
'Oh, why didn't we think of these things when we had him at our mercy?' Eames wailed. 'Never mind—we'll try it on the next chap. You've a mind, Claus.'
'Now we'll call on 'em at Mess,' said Wontner, as they minced towards the door.
'I think I'll call on your Colonel,' said Stalky. He oughtn't to miss this. Your first attempt? I assure you I couldn't have done it better myself. Thank you!' He held out his hand.
'Thank you, sir!' said Wontner, shaking it. 'I'm more grateful to you than I can say, and—and I'd like you to believe some time that I'm not quite as big a'
'Not in the least,' Stalky interrupted. 'If I were writing a confidential report on you, I should put you down as rather adequate. Look after your geishas, or they'll fall!'
We watched the three cross the road and disappear into the shadow of the mess verandah. There was a noise. Then telephone bells rang, a sergeant and a mess waiter charged out, and the noise grew, till at last the Mess was a little noisy.
We came back, ten minutes later, with Colonel
