Even without his khaki I should have known the wee lieutenant for an
infant in arms, and I began to hope, directly I had been detached by our
hostess to cover his left wing, that he was that happy warrior for whom
I was seeking. He saw me looking at the red ribbon which adorned the
left wing in question and which our gardener's wife told me the other
day was "a poor trumpery sort of thing if KITCHENER meant it as an
honour to them."
"I'm not a kicker," he assured me, and I let him talk inoculation
happily until we commenced to move forward in files.
"You live here, don't you?" he said as soon as Maria (not black) had
served us with soup, and when I assented his next remark made me
hopeful.
"And you know all the people round here, I suppose?"
"Nearly everyone I should think within five miles of the village."
"I've been here a fortnight and this is the first time I have been
out--not out-of-doors, of course--I mean meeting people."
At that moment my neighbour upon the left commenced a bombardment which
interrupted us but, when a pause came at last, the wee lieutenant broke
it in a low and solemn voice.
"I suppose you couldn't tell me why a deaf man can't tickle nine
children?"
So suddenly had matters come to a head that I sat staring, and the wee
lieutenant, misunderstanding my interest, grew red.
"I'm not mad, really and truly, but that thing is positively getting on
my brain. I'm not very keen on riddles and so forth, but I happened to
hear someone ask that one the other day, and I didn't catch the answer.
Somehow it has worried me ever since. Why can't he tickle them?"
I shook my head. "I never saw anybody attempt it, deaf or otherwise.
Hadn't you better ask the person who propounded the question?"
"I--I can't very well--I wish I could. I thought, if you knew the answer
to the riddle, you might know the person who asked it. It's very hard to
get to know people by yourself, isn't it?"