The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1900-09-01
ACTIVE SERVICE.
Harold Begbie, in Punch.l

Harold Begbie, in Punch.1
A bomb exploded on the breakfast
table of Captain and Mrs. Caraway,
just as Mrs. Caraway was pouring boil
ing water upon the Indian tea
Janet" cried the old gentleman;
I'm called out! They want me at the
depot
"Georgel it's impossible. Oh, they
can never be so cruell"
They want me Immediately he
made answer. And then his wife burst
into tears.
You see, Captain Caraway was in the
carpet slipper period of life. He had
never been a keen soldier, and with his
twelve years of service accomplished,
and his pension attained. the gentle
souled little man had laid by his uni
form and retired into civil life with a
glad heart. On his pension and a small
income enjoyed by Mrs Caraway, the
worthy couple had lived for many
years on the outskirts of London, go
ing regularly to church on Sunday and
tending their garden and three Persian
cats during the week He envied no
general his fame, never abused the war
office, belonged to no military club, and
looked back on his soldering as h ma
jority of undergraduates look back on
their school days. That he should ever
buckle on his armor again was the last
thought that ever entered the Captains
placid mind.
Now, while Mrs. Caraway dreaded the
DIGdh1lS up u liz 1AOAAlC AAAOA AAAoA-
anything else, Captain Caraway, it
must be confessed, viewed the order
from the war office in other ghts as
well. To go back to barracks meant to
him a return to bullying, or, at any
rate, to what school boys call rag
ging." His colonel, a man named
Watt, he remembered distinctly as a
fine, dashing major, who loved to make
him the butt of mess room witticisms.
If, then, he had been ragged by the
major in those PARKWAY days or ms
early manhood, how much more would
he find himself chaffed and teased now
that he was in middle life and less like
a soldier than ever? Thoughts OF this
kind gnawed at Captain Caraways
heart, but he kept them from his wife.
| Mrs. Caraway was a fine, busting Wo-
! man. Her first grief over, the good
woman insisted on making the old uni
form do, and herself let it out where
necessary, arranging for belts and
saSheS to hide the trail OF her needle
I'VE must save as much as possible, p"
she said, when her husband limited that
Watt was always very particular about
kit.
way to depart. AS he kissed his wife
thoughts of all she had been to him,
all h had grown to mean TO him.
surged unanimously into his heart.
What shall 1 do without my pretty
Jane2" he cried.
..Take care Of yourself she an
swered, land remember to see that your
servant airs your shirts and under
| clothing. On, George, promise me"
she went on. that you will change
your boots and socks when ever you
have been out in the rain"
Il promise" he said, a little hoarsely-
Then it will soon be over" said she,
cheerfully, and you will come back
safe and sound. 1 wrote last night to
the Colonel, asking him to see that your
bed was aired"
Janet he shrieked in horror.
HDe9r George: what is it,
You don't mean to say you asked
the Colonel to air my bed2s"
course, I did. Now, none of your
ridiculous nonsense about military
| Etiquette. 1 wrote secretly, because L
knew you would be sure to raise some
trifiing objection of that kind. Your
life. nv dear, is much too precious for
me to stand on ceremony in things OF
this kind. Goodbye, George, goodbye;
and promise that you will change your
boots
1t was sunset when he arrived at the
country station and hailed a fly the
train was late. and with a three miles
drive before him he was fearful OF ar
irving late for mess. Never did milk
sop entering school for the nrst time
| suffer greater torments than did poor
Caraway during that drive The thougnt
that his wife had asked the colonel
the colonell-to air his bed caused the
poor fellow infinite anguish. He pictured
to himself the fate in front of him. Inc
| colonel would meet him on the steps VI
| the quarters with carpet slippers and a
tumbler of warm milk The other men
would be grinning at the coloneiS sloe'
and saying over and over again; are
you quite sure, sir, that you've aired
Captain Caraway'S bed?" And ms
servant would be in the background
witnessing his humiliation. The mess
walters would have heard the colonel
roaring over his wife's fatal letter that
very morning at breakfast, and now all
the men in barracks would be
merry at his expense. But worse than
] FORGETTING his company's respect was the
| prospect of being baiIed by the young
sprigs of subalterns- What would they
say to him? What would they do to
him? A cold wind blew across with
darkening fields. The suns last beams
hickered behind the chimney's of a man
ufacturing town in the distance. Captain
Caraway shivered.
He began to remember different points
in the landscape, the trees in the hedges.
| the bends of the road. A few minutes
more, and the dust stained fly would
turn sharp to the left, Jolt up a narrow
| lane, and then-the red brick barracks?
| He pulled cut his watch and shivered
! again. 1t was s o'clock; he had fifteen
minutes in which to dress for dinner!
The fly turned the corner, crawled
slowly up the lane, and presently ratified
| slowly over cobleStoneS through the bar
rack gates. The sentry, a smooth faced
boy, ooked up at the Captain, but did
| not salute. The barrack square seemed
empty. Outside the officers quarters, a
dull, cheerless red brick building, a
civilian was %lounging. When the fly
stopped he approached and touched his
| forehead. Captain Caraway2" said he.
Yes" said our hero. I'm Private
Moore, sir, and I'm told off to be your
servant. You've got ten minutes to
dress in, sir"
Captain Caraway followed his servant
meekly up the steps, and climbed with
him the echoing wooden stairs. Full as
| his mind was of apprehension. he yet
| bad room there for thOughtS of his home
and the girl he had left behind him. All!
! how greatly to be desired was that little