“We’ll get some gloves and I’ll show you,” said Doggie.
So peace and firm friendship were made. Doggie went into the house and in the dining-room found Oliver in convulsive laughter.
“Oh, my holy aunt! You’ll be the death of me, Doggie. ‘Yes, sir!’” He mimicked him. “The perfect Tommy. After doing in old Chipmunk. Chipmunk with the strength of a gorilla and the courage of a lion. I just happened round to see him go down. How the blazes did you manage it, Doggie?”
“That’s what Chipmunk’s just asked me,” Doggie replied. “I belong to a regiment where boxing is taught. Really a good regiment,” he grinned. “There’s a sergeant-instructor, a chap called Ballinghall——”
“Not Joe Ballinghall, the well-known amateur heavy-weight?”
“That’s him right enough,” said Doggie.
“My dear old chap,” said Oliver, “this is the funniest war that ever was.”
Peggy sailed in full of apologies and began to pour out coffee.
“Do help yourselves. I’m so sorry to have kept you poor hungry things waiting.”
“We’ve filled up the time amazingly,” cried Oliver, waving a silver dish-cover. “What do you think? Doggie’s had a fight with Chipmunk and knocked him out.”