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"Yes the Residency." "That's bad, sir. Thought we was to retreat to there when things got too hot at the orspittle."
"When I was in orspittle, I remember old Morley said that sleep was the something that did something to set wounded fellows up again, and if I got sopping his head, poor chap! it would wake him up as sure as eggs is eggs." Then he went down on his knees, picked up the cocoa-nut cup, filled it to the brim, and very slowly trickled the contents down his throat. "Hah!" he sighed.
I thought you'd come and say good-bye." "Aye, and come to the station too, my lad. And I mean to come up to the orspittle once a week, to bring you a bit o' fruit and a few flowers, if I have to walk." "Thank you, old man; thank you." "You need a bit o' comfort, my lad, and I want you to get right. That old 'ooman's drying hersen up wi' crying about you.
"I ought to have cut the string in the train and told the guard he's a friend of the gardener's," he said, "but I was asleep. I don't know as ever I slep' so sound afore. Like as if I'd had sleepy-stuff you know. Like they give me at the orspittle."
"I 'ave to you, I know that," said Dickie, settling his crutch firmly and putting his hand into Mr. Beale's. Mr. Beale looked down at the touch. "Swelp me!" he said helplessly. Then, "Does it hurt you walking?" "Not like it did 'fore I went to the orspittle. They said I'd be able to walk to rights if I wore that there beastly boot. But that 'urts worsen anythink." "Well," said Mr.
One little swallow ain't no help to a man as beat out as you are." "As yer like, Dennis," said Mr. Hackley, listlessly. "What I reely need is a good long rest, like in a 'orspittle." Kindly Mr. Ryan filled the small glass almost to the brim; and Hackley, though he had modestly stipulated for "on'y a drap" tossed it all off thirstily at a single practised toss. "That'll fix you up nice.
I joined up in '14 like a bloody fool. At first I didn't care a damn for anything. Then I was wounded on the Somme an' sent across to Blighty. I dreaded comin' back agin. I only 'ad a little wound in me 'and, an' I used ter plug it wi' dubbin' an' boot-polish ter keep it raw. It didn't 'alf 'urt, but it gave me a extra week or two in 'orspittle.
The big Prussian rumbled out his unintelligible adieux, with a grateful face and a premonitory smooth of his yellow mustache, but got no farther, for some one else stepped up, with a large brown hand extended, and this recommendation of our very faulty establishment: "We're off, ma'am, and I'm powerful sorry, for I'd no idea a 'orspittle was such a jolly place.
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