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"Apologize." "I wown't." "Good," said Acton, grimly. With his flat hand he gave the fellow a thundering cuff which sent him sprawling. Acton then caught him by the scruff of his neck and threw him headlong into the snow-heap. "Come along, Bourne," he said, with a smile. "You have fought a good fight this day, and no mistake.
"When yer gow inter Wipers naow," said the orator, "yer see owld, grye-headed lydies an' bybies like little wite gowsts, an' yer sye ter them, 'Gow-a-wye, the 'Un may be 'ere ter-dye, but they wown't gow, they got now 'omes ter gow ter!" But in spite of the difficulties of a foreign language, you realized that this Cockney sergeant was a man.
'Inde for years, an' I feel I can tyke care of anybody after 'im. You leave 'im to me, Mrs. MacDermott, an' I wown't let 'im come to no 'arm!" She leant forward suddenly and whispered to Eleanor. "I do 'ope it's a boy," she said. "Why?" said Eleanor blushing. "Ow, I dunno. Looks better some'ow to 'ave a boy first go off. You can always 'ave a girl afterwards.
"Good-morning," John said to the driver as he rose from his seat. "Goo'-mornin'!" said the driver. He paused while John got out of the seat into the gangway. "You know," he went on, "you wown't git so excited abaht things after you bin 'ere a bit. You'll tyke things more calm. Like me. I down't go an' lose my 'ead abaht Shykespeare!..." "Good-morning," said John.
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