"You see 'About thirty
miles' and so forth, suggests the old song of _Within a Mile of
Edinboro' Town_."
"Don't see it," says the Virtuous Veteran, stolidly.
"Well, I'll make a note of it," and I add pleasantly, as is my way,
"if it's a song, I'll make _several notes_ of it."
"Um!" growls the Severe Soldier, and once again I defeat him in an
attempt at surprising my outpost, i.e., my tumbler of cool drink. He
apologises gruffly but politely, and then continues his reading.
ON WE GOES AGAIN.
He continues to read about "_distances," "so many feet above
sea-levels," "engineering skill_," &c., &c., which I observe to him
will all make capital padding for a guide-book, when I am suddenly
struck by the sound of the word I had just used, _viz._, 'padding.'
PADDINGTON.
"By Jove!" I exclaim.
"What is it?" asks the Confused Captain, looking up from his MS.
"'Padding,'" I reply--"Only add a 'ton' to it, and that will give it
just the weight I require. Don't you see?" I ask him, impetuously.
But he merely shakes his head, and lugs at his moustache. I explain
the idea, as if it were a charade.
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