"Only just for forty-eight hours," he remarked.
"Forty-eight hours!" gasped the indignant Pilot; then, raising his voice to
surmount the din, "Forty-eight hours' leave in London, and you've just been
pouring out hot air about--"
"_Leave?_" interrupted the Adjutant, in pained surprise. "What d'you mean
by leave? I'm going on _duty_."
A chorus of derisive laughter greeted the announcement. "Duty?" echoed the
Stunt Pilot bitterly. "_What_ duty?"
The Adjutant took another furl in his bath-towel.
"If you really must know," he said composedly, "I'm going to buy a
vacuum-cleaner for the Mess."
"You infernal old wangler!" cried the outraged Pilot, when at last he was
able to make himself heard. "Of course it takes forty-eight hours to buy a
vacuum-cleaner, doesn't it?"
"As a matter of fact," said the Adjutant solemnly, "my whole experience of
vacuum-cleaners leads me to the conviction that you have to look at a great
many of them before you can pick a really good one." He glanced round for
his clothes. "And now if you fellows will get on with your baths, I've got
an air mechanic coming in a minute or two to cut my hair.
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