Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/521

Sympathetic Stranger (after lady's repeated calls of "John! John! John!"). "John doesn't seem to be a very obedient little dog."

Lady. "Well, you see, his name isn't John; (faintly) it's really Fritz.

I will call them A, B and C. This is for convenience, and not for fear that they might recognise themselves under their own names, for they are the kind who would never recognise themselves in print.

By an odd chance I met them all on the same day, one at a club, one in the street, and one in a train. All are between forty and fifty; in fact, contemporaries of my own. All are fairly well-to-do, or were before the War started. To-day no one knows what he is worth. And to-morrow———?

A was walking along Cockspur Street when I met him, or, to be more exact, when he met me. He was in that dangerous mood when a man says, "Which way are you going? I've nothing much to do. I'll go along with you."

I said I was going to the Albany.

"You're just the man I wanted to see," he said. "I want your advice. The fact is, the War is gettin' on my nerves and I really think I ought to be doin' somethin'. Somethin' real, I mean. I'm too old to fight; even if I could scrape through with a lie about my age. What do you say? Couldn't you suggest some organisin' I could do? I hate to praise myself, but if there's one thing I can do, it's to organise. Look at the things I've done in that way. Look at our golf club. Works like a clock. Look at my billiard room lamps; my own idea, and everyone notices them. Ever since I was at school I have been an organiser. I ran all the various societies there. Now don't you think there ought to be a vacancy for me in one of the departments?"

I said I had an idea that they preferred trained men; amateurs can be a nuisance.

"I know that," he said. "But mine's a different case. There's always room at the top, and for a real organiser too—a born administrator. Now do promise to think of something for me. And let me know. Here's my new address; we've just moved to a most delightful place in Devonshire."

I promised.

B came up to me in the club.

"Lunching alone?" he asked.

I had to admit it.

"You don't mind if I join you?" he added.

I could not tell the truth.

"I wanted to see you," he said. "You know several Government people, I know. Well, I've been talking it over with my wife, and we're sure that with my gift of organisation there must be some post I could fill just now to help old England. I'd fight if I could, but I'm too old. But my brain's in perfect order and there's nothing I can't do with underlings. I've proved it again and again. You should see how I keep my gardeners hopping about; and, although I say it as shouldn't, my clerks adore me. Now surely there's some vacancy for me somewhere. Not this week and not next, because we've got people till then; but after that. Can't you think of anything? What about this Push and Go business? Couldn't I be useful there? Think about it, won't you?"

I said I would.

C looked in at my carriage window a second too soon. A second later and my Pall Mall would have covered my face.

"Ah, that's right," he said. "I was hoping I should find you. Now if we can only keep the bores out we're all right."

I laid aside the paper—and I was in the very midst of the Garvinelles too—and prepared for the worst.

"It's like this," he said. "All my friends tell me I've got very unusual abilities as an organiser, and upon my