everything he wants for his own comfort—socks and shirts and things of that kind.
Mrs. G.—Why doesn't he pack them in a little trunk?
Captain G. (kissing her).—Oh, you darling! Pack them in a little trunk, indeed! Hussars don't carry trunks, and it's a most important thing to make the horse do all the carrying.
Mrs. G.—But why need you bother about it? You're not a trooper.
Captain G.—No; but I command a few score of him; and equipment is nearly everything in these days.
Mrs. G.—More than me?
Captain G.—Stupid! Of course not; but it's a matter that I'm tremendously interested in, because if I or Jack, or I and Jack, work out some sort of lighter saddlery and all that, it's possible that we may get it adopted.
Mrs. G.—How?
Captain G.—Sanctioned at Home, where they will make a sealed pattern—a pattern that all the saddlers must copy—and so it will be used by all the regiments.
Mrs. G.—And that interests you?
Captain G.—It's part of my profession, y'know, and my profession is a good deal to me. Everything in a soldier's equipment is important, and if we can improve that equipment so much the better for the soldiers and for us.
Mrs. G.—Who's "us?"
Captain G.—Jack and I; though Jack's notions are too radical. What's that big sigh for, Minnie?
Mrs. G.—Oh, nothing . . . and you've kept all this a secret from me? Why?
Captain G.—Not a secret, exactly, dear. I didn't say anything about it to you because I didn't think it would amuse you.
Mrs. G.—And am I only made to be amused?
Captain G.—No, of course. I merely mean that it couldn't interest you.
5
