WON ON THE POSTS.
(With the British Army in France.)
The decisive victory of the Racing Club de Petiteville—late the deuxième équipage of the Sportif Club de Petiteville—over the troisième équipage of the Société Athlétique de Pont Neuf would not appear to have any bearing on the washing of Percival's collars and pyjamas; but, according to Elfred Fry, there was a poignant connection between the two.
When the Sportif Club received the challenge they doubted whether to accept it, as the Société Athlétique was rumoured to include several veterans approaching fifteen years of age and of tremendous physique. On being conceded the choice of ground, however, they took up the gage and trained and practised with such vigour that two days before the date of the match Georges Darré, right back, punted his toe through a previously suspected weak spot in the ball and irreparably ruined it. The Société Athlétique was informed of the disaster and asked to supply a ball, but they answered that no known authority or precedent existed for visiting teams providing the accessories. There was also an insinuation that the story of the burst ball was a fabrication, designed to give the Sportif Club a loophole of escape from a contest that spelt certain defeat.
Stung to the quick, the deuxième équipage made an urgent appeal to the premier équipage of the Sportif Club, who replied that this was the first intimation they had had of the existence of a deuxième équipage, and recommended a tourney at marbles or a combat of peg-tops as being more suitable to their tender years.
Naturally this insult could not be brooked, and it was decided to break away from the parent body and reorganise under the title of the Racing Club de Petiteville; but this did not help them to solve the question of a new ball. Then it was that Théo Navet, left half, and son of the blanchisseuse in the rue Napoléon, had an inspiration, and Percival's pyjamas became linked up with the destinies of the club.
"It wouldn't surprise me, Sir," said Elfred on the evening when Petiteville was ringing with the news of the Racing Club's victory by 4 buts to 2, "if you are the only officer in Mess to-night with a reelly clean collar."
"And why am I singled out for so much honour?" asked Percival, taking the slacks which Elfred produced from between the mattresses. "Has the Washer-women's Union handed in notices and made a complimentary exception in my case?"
"Well, Sir, you 'ave been favoured, but it weren't a strike," explained Elfred. "You know, Sir, there's been an alarming short ration of coal an' fuel down in the village for a long time, an' two days ago Madame Navet, who does the orficers' washing, came up an' said she was bokoo fashay but the washing was napood for the week, becos she couldn't buy, beg, borrer nor steal enough fuel to keep her copper biling.... Do we wear the yaller boots to-night, Sir, or the very yaller ones?"
"The light pair," said Percival, "to give tone to the clean collar. But go on."
"Well, I put it to Madame as my orficer was a very partickler gent, an' she'd gotter do our washing even if she 'ad to light 'er fire with the family dresser. She said she was desolated; she 'adn't sufficient coal to take the chill off a mouchoir. I thought of trying to borrer a sack for 'er from the quarter bloke, but our relations 'ave never been the same since the time I took my weekly ration of 'Pink Princesses' back an' arsked 'im to change 'em for cigarettes with a bit o' tobacco in.
"After she'd gone I took a kit inventory 'an found we was down to our last clean collar, an' we looked like bein' a bit grubby in the matter of pyjamas. I went a walk to the canteen to think it over, an' on my way Madame's lad came up an' said 'is team 'ad an important match for two days later an' could I possibly oblige 'em with a football. Being a sportsman—I take a franc chance in the camp football sweep every week—I said I'd try what I could do, knowin' of a ball which me an' the other batmen punt about in our rare hintervals of leisure. But then the thought of that washing that wasn't washed came into my mind.
"'See 'ere, Meredith,' I says. 'Je voo donneray a ball si votre mère does our washing toot sweet.'"
"'E looked blue at this an' said they couldn't get fuel nohow.
"'Compree scrounge?' says I.
"It seems 'e did. It seems scrounging for fuel 'ad reached such a pitch in the village that people took their backyard fences in at night, 'an they 'ad posted a policeman on the station to prevent 'em sawing away the waiting-room. But our washing 'ad to be done, 'an I thought if I got the whole of this football team scrounging they might find something as everyone else 'ad overlooked. So I pretended to be indifferink.
"'Very well,' says I. 'San fairy ann. Napoo washing—napoo ball.'
"That set 'em to work. Next day little boys were scraping the village over like fowls in a farmyard, getting a chip 'ere an' a shaving there, an' making themselves such a nuisance that there was talk of calling the gendarmerie out. They would 'ave done, too, only he'd laid down for a nap an' left strict orders 'e wasn't to be disturbed. Then they slipped into the Camp, trying to lay nefarious 'ands on empty ration boxes, but the Camp police spotted 'em an' chivied them off. I never seen our police so exhausted as they were at the end of that day.
"'I can't think what's taken the little varmints,' said the Provost-Sergeant. 'It ain't the Fifth of November.'
"On the whole it wasn't a good day's 'unting, but this morning I was waited on by a deputation wearing striped jerseys, which they appeared to 'ave put on at early dawn. They said the fire was lit under the copper, 'an could they 'ave the ball?
"'Doucemong!' says I. 'Allay along, an' let's see the fire first.'
"Yes, it were lit, but only just. The water was lukewarm an' the fuel 'ad nearly all burned away, an' Madame was standing looking at it hopelessly.
"'Pas bong,' says I to the lads. 'Pas assay chaud. Voo scroungerez ongcore.'
"They was frantic, becos it was nearly match time. I felt inclined to give 'em the ball, but the thought of you, Sir, in a dirty collar—"
"You may keep the pair of old riding-breeches you borrowed without permission," interrupted Percy.
"Thank you, Sir. Then all at once the lads 'ad a confab an' went away, an' in a few minutes they was back with some lovely straight planed props of timber, an' they chopped 'em up in a jiffy 'an got the fire roaring 'ot, an' I gave 'em the ball, an' your collars is done an' the rest of your things is out drying an' will be finished to-morrow."
"Of course I'm grateful," said Percival. "You might tell your young friends I'm willing to be a vice-president of their club—on the usual terms. What's the name of it?"
"They tell me it's called 'The Racing Club,'" said Elfred. "But I think, Sir, you'd better give your subscription to the other club in the village—'The Sportif Club.' You see, Sir, they 'ad a match on to-day as well, an' when they arrived on the ground they found someone 'ad been and scrounged their goal-posts!"
"I say, excuse me, dear old top, but you mustn't wear that gunner tie now you're demobbed. It simply isn't done!"