"Where is young Sandeman?" he inquired.
Young Sandeman was the Adjutant.
"He went out to the Orderly Room, sir, five minutes ago," replied
Bobby Little.
"I only want to give him to-morrow's Orders. No doubt he'll be back presently. I may as well mention to you fellows that I propose to allow the men three clear days' rest, except for bathing and re-clothing. After that we must do Company Drill, good and hard, so as to polish up the new draft, who are due to-morrow. I am going to start a bombing-school, too: at least seventy-five per cent. of the Battalion ought to pass the test before we go back to the line. However, we need not rush things. We should be here in peace for at least a month. We must get up some sports, and I think it would be a sound scheme to have a singsong one Saturday night. I was just saying, Sandeman,"—this to the Adjutant, who reëntered the room at that moment,—"that it would be a sound—"
The Adjutant laid a pink field-telegraph slip before his superior.
"This has just come in from Brigade Headquarters, sir," he said. "I have sent for the Sergeant-Major."
The Colonel adjusted his glasses and read the despatch. A deathly, sickening silence reigned in the room. Then he looked up.
"I am afraid I was a bit previous," he said quietly. "The Royal Stickybacks have lost the Kidney Bean, and we are detailed to go up and retake it. Great compliment to the regiment, but a trifle mistimed! You young fellows had better go to bed. Parade at 4 A.M., sharp! Good-night! Come along to the Orderly Room, Sandeman."
The door closed, and the Mess, grinding the ends of their cigars into their coffee-cups, heaved themselves resignedly to their aching feet.
"There ain't," quoted Major Wagstaffe, "no word in the blooming language for it!"