Soldiers have to do their own mending when it is done at all, and it
appears--although few persons would have guessed it--that the thoughtful
War Office supplies them with outfits for that purpose. Otherwise, this
joke would be impossible.
Everything was ready for kit inspection; the recruits stood lined up
ready for the officer, and the officer had his bad temper all complete.
He marched up and down the line, grimly eyeing each man's bundle of
needles and soft soap, and then he singled out Private MacTootle as the
man who was to receive his attentions.
"Toothbrush?" he roared.
"Yes, sir."
"Razor?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hold-all?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hm! You're all right, apparently," growled the officer. Then he barked:
"Housewife?"
"Oh, very well, thank you," said the recruit amiably. "How's yours?"