"Fittin' 'er with a necklace," replied Chippo.
"Well, you can keep it to hang yourself with," said Bulter triumphantly; "she's already provided."
Chippo perceived, what he had previously overlooked, that Jane's neck was encircled with a collar marked—
JANE BULTER,
Sergeants' Mess.
A sick feeling of disappointment came over him, but he dissembled.
"I reckernize the family likeness, Sergeant," he remarked and walked away, whilst Jane, with callous disregard for his sufferings, meditated whether to dine with the Ration Corporal or the Sergeant Cook, or both.
Chippo walked gloomily in the direction of the town. As he approached the place the blaring of cornets and sounds of hilarity reminded him that Quelquepart was holding its annual foire. Merry-go-rounds and swing-boats were not in harmony with Chippo's mood, and the performance at the gaudily-painted Guignol struck him as particularly dreary, but the sight of Ferdinand Delauney's Grande Loterie, with its huge red wheel and tempting array of prizes, roused him to animation. Ferdinand was attracting investors by methods of persuasion which Chippo, as an acknowledged "Crown-and-anchor" expert, recognised as masterly.
"Reckon I'll try a franc's-worth of Ferdy's prize bonds," he said. "But I expect it'll just be my luck to win a dog-collar or a muzzle."
In due course the wheel began to revolve, and it had scarcely stopped before Ferdinand jumped from the platform and embraced Chippo with emotion.
"Mon ami," he said, "mes félicitations! Vous avez gagné le premier prix!"