The warrant officer came out of Freckles and suggested writing a letter.
"'E 'as done. 'E's wrote an' told 'em 'as 'e can't send 'is kar-kee back until 'e gets a suit o' Martin 'Enry's or thirty bob in loo of same. An' all as they done was to write again an' demand 'is uniform at once."
The warrant officer sighed and opined that orders were orders.
"Yes, but 'e 'd 'ave to carry 'em to the Post Office naked, wouldn't 'e? An' 'ow about goin' to buy new ones? That's if 'e 'd drawed 'is pay, which 'e 'asn't. Unreasonable, that's wot I calls it."
"'Asn't 'e got no civvies at all?" said the small man, beginning to look sceptical. "'Asn't 'e got no one as 'd lend 'im a soot? Anyways, 'e could get some one to post 'em for 'im, an' then stop in bed till 'is others come."
"'E's a very lonely feller," said the champion of the unclad; "'e lives in lodgin's, an 'e 'asn't got no friends. If 'e 'adn't got no clothes for to fetch 'is pay in, wot then?"
A gloomy silence, a silence fraught with the inevitability of destiny, settled on the party.
The warrant officer, who had been pretending to resume Freckles, presently looked up and suggested that he could go in his uniform to a tailor, explain the position and obtain clothes on credit.
The originator of the problem thought hard for a minute.
"'E isn't a man as I'd care to trust myself," he said rather unexpectedly, "an' I don't think no one else would neither."