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"Good-by, Guv, good-by!" croaked the Old Un, "if I don't put some o' they perishers in the 'orspitals an' the infirmaries I ain't the man I was "'Oh, used am I to war's alarms I 'unger for the fray, Though beauty clasps me in 'er arms The trumpet calls away."
"Then," answered Sam, "you 're luckier than most people." "I want a wash." "Do you, now? Well, as to that, o' course you're the best judge; but I 'adn't noticed it." "You wouldn't, 'ardly," said Tilda, "seein' as I 'ad one on'y yestiddy. But that's the worst of 'orspitals. They get you inside, an' a'most before you know where you are, they've set up a 'abit.
We gathered idly round the disputants, glad of a distraction that would help to pass the time. A third person joined in the argument: "If 'e bombs 'orspitals an' C.C.S.'s it's our own bloody fault. Look at our C.C.S. 'ere. There's a ordnance park and a R.E. dump up the road. There's a railway in front an' a sidin' where troops is always detrainin'. Then there's a gas dump over yonder.
"The least he could do," snapped the servant, "knocking folks into orspitals with his fine gent airs. I sawr him out of the winder while you was in the shop, and there he spoke law-de-daw to a brat of a boy as ought to be in gaol, seeing he smoked a cigar stump an' him but a ten-year-old guttersnipe. Ses I, oh, a painted maypole you is, I ses, with a face as hard as bath bricks.
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