This was a sight, thought Jones, he could watch for ever.  He was sorry when the battalion came at last to an end; he was glad when another almost immediately began.  He was in luck; doubtless this was a brigade on the move.  He proposed to have his breakfast at the window, when it came as come it soon must, thus refreshing his hungry body and his contemplative mind at the same time.  The second battalion, as the first, were fine fellows all, suggesting the might of the Allies and the futility of the enemy’s protracted resistance.  Again the comic relief was provided by the travelling cuisine, reminding Jones of the oddity of human affairs and the need of his own meal, now sufficiently deferred.

The progress of the Brigade was interrupted by the intervention of a train of motor transport.  Jones spent the time of its passing in consulting his watch, wondering where the devil was his breakfast and ascertaining that his servant had indeed gone across the road for it at least forty minutes ago.

It was not until there came a break, after the first company of the third battalion, that the reason of this delay became apparent.  There was his servant on the far side of the road, and there was his breakfast in the servant’s hand, all standing to attention, as they should do when a column of troops was passing....

The remainder of that Brigade suggested no agreeable thoughts to Captain Jones.  He saw nothing magnificent in the whole and nothing attractive in any detail of it.  It was in fact just a long and tiresome sequence of monotonous and sheeplike individuals who really might have chosen some other time and place for their silly walks abroad.  And as for the spirit of discipline exemplified in the servant, who scrupled to defy red tape and slip through at a convenient interval, this was nothing else but the maddening ineptitude of all human conceits.

A wonderful servant is that servant of Captain Jones; but then they all are.  Valet, cook, porter, boots, chambermaid, ostler, carpenter, upholsterer, mechanic, inventor, needlewoman, coal-heaver, diplomat, barber, linguist (home-made), clerk, universal provider, complete pantechnicon and infallible bodyguard, he is also a soldier, if a very old soldier, and a man of the most human kind.  Jones came across him in the earlier stages of the War, not in England and not in France.  The selection wasn’t after the usual manner or upon the usual references.  He recommended himself to Jones by the following incident:—­

A new regiment had come to the station; between them and the old regiment, later to become the firmest friends, some little difference of opinion had arisen and, upon the first meeting of representative elements in the neighbouring town, there had been words.  Reports, as they reached Jones at the barracks some four miles from the town, hinted at something more than words still continuing.  Jones, having reason to anticipate sequels on the morrow, took the precaution of going round his company quarters then, and there, to find which of his men, if any, were not involved.  “There’s a fair scrap up in town,” he heard a man saying.  As he entered, a second man was sitting up in bed and asking, “Dost thou think it will be going on yet?” Hoping for the best, he was for rising, dressing, walking four miles and joining in.