"Oxo and biscuits, please," broke in a languid voice suddenly, and a pale young man with an armlet approached the counter. I turned away for the cup, and Private Penny, laying down his mug, addressed the newcomer.
"Who are you?" he inquired genially.
The young man surveyed him with cold superiority; then he turned to me.
"I'm a Derby man, you see," he began complacently. "A lot of pals'll be here presently, and we're all going to join this afternoon. They're late."
"And what," I asked with resentment, for Private Penny was a friend of mine, "are you going to join?"
It appeared that this superior person, after unprejudiced consideration of the matter, had decided to join the A.S.C. He said he considered he would be of most use in the A.S.C.; he said he was specially designed and constructed by Providence for the A.S.C.; he said....
And then suddenly we became aware that Private Penny was mourning gently to himself over a dough-nut.
"Pore chap!" he was muttering, "pore young feller—'e don't know. None of 'em knows till it's too late, and then they finds their mistake. No good to tell 'em—pore chap, pore chap—so pleased over it, too!"
"What's that you're saying?" the youth cut in anxiously.
"Young man," said Private Penny very solemnly, "if you'd take my advice—the advice of one that's served his country twelve months at the Front—you'd let the Army Service Corps alone. Not that I'm doubting you're a plucky young feller enough, but you ain't up to that. It's nerve you want for it. Well, I wouldn't take it on myself, and I'm pretty well seasoned. Why, you 'ave to go calmly into the mouth of 'ell with supplies, over the open ground, when the Infantry's safe and snug in the trenches. You ain't strong enough for it—reely you ain't."