"Look here," exclaimed the latest subaltern, hurling himself at the
remains of the breakfast, "those rotters have sent me a putrid sword!"
"A putrid sword, dear?" his mother repeated.
"Yes, confound them!"
"I don't see why you want a sword at all," Dolly chipped in. "Captain
Jones says the big guns are the only weapons that count."
"And how will Archie toast his crumpets?" retorted Henry.
"Oh, shut up, you kids! I say, do you mind having a look at it?" The
latest subaltern was actually appealing to me. I stifled a blush, and
thought I should like to, very much.
After breakfast Archibald and myself retired to the armoury.
"There!" he exclaimed indignantly. "What do you think of that?" It was
lying on the bed with a black-and-gold hilt and a wonderful nickel
scabbard with gilt blobs at the top. I looked at it.
"Well," I ventured, "it's a sword."
Archibald sniffed.
"And," I continued hastily, "it's very nice. Perhaps they've run out of
the ordinary ones. Does it cut?"
He drew it, and I, assuming the air of a barber's assistant, felt its
edge.
"Of course," I remarked, "I don't know much about it, but if there _is_
anything left to cut when you go out I think it should be stropped a
bit first."
"Well," said the proud owner, "I ordered it at Slashers', and they
ought to know. Suppose we rub it up on young Henry's emery wheel?"
"Wait a minute," I cried; "I should like to see it on."
Archibald buckled on the scabbard and I slapped the trusty blade home.
It certainly looked a bit odd. I surveyed it in profile.
"No!" I exclaimed, "there is something about it ... a Yussuf air ...
that little bend at the tip is reminiscent of Turkestan."
We found Henry in the workshop.
"My fairy godmother," he shouted, "did you pinch it from the pantomime?"
We did not deign to reply. Gingerly, very gingerly, we applied Yussuf
to the emery wheel.... Little flakes came off him--just little flakes.
It was very distressing.
The gardener joined us and advised some oil; then the coachman brought
us some polishing sand; bath-brick and whitening we got from the cook.
It was no good. Nothing could restore those little flakes. So we went
indoors to have a look at the Encyclopædia. But there was nothing there
to help us. Yussuf was suffering from an absolutely unknown disease.
We put him to bed again.
* * * * *