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There was this that was peculiar about the stranger's back: that instead of being flat it presented a decided curve. "It ain't a 'ump, and it don't look like kervitcher of the spine," observed the voluble young lady to herself. "Blimy if I don't believe 'e's taking 'ome 'is washing up his back."
I saw him rescuing wounded comrades, tending them in the trenches, encouraging them and heartening them when he himself was discouraged and sick at heart. "You're a-go'n' 'ome, 'Arry! Blimy! think o' that! Back to old Blightey w'ile the rest of us 'as got to stick it out 'ere! Don't I wish I was you! Not 'arf!" "You ain't bad 'urt! Strike me pink!
"Cripes!" ejaculated the veracious Crimmins, as wide-eyed he watched the filly fling gravel down the drove, "'e's got a seat like Billy Garrison himself. 'E can ride, that kid. An' 'e knows 'orse-flesh. Blimy if 'e don't! If Garrison weren't down an' out I'd be ready to tyke my Alfred David it were 'is bloomin' self. An' I thought 'e was a dub! Ho, yuss me!"
They go forth to fight for Glorious France, France the Unconquerable! Tommy shoulders his rifle and departs for the four corners of the world on a "bloomin' fine little 'oliday!" A railway journey and a sea voyage in one! "Blimy! Not 'arf bad, wot?" Perhaps he is stirred at the thought of fighting for "England, Home, and Beauty."
'Op off, 'ook it before I break every blessed bone in yer bloomin' body!" "What, Old Un, don't you know me, either?" "Lumme!" exclaimed the little old man, blinking beneath hoary brows. "Ho, lor' lumme, it's 'im! Blimy, it's the Guv'nor 'ow do, Guv!" and shooting immaculate cuffs over bony wrists he extended a clawlike hand. "How are you, Old Un?"
Guv look at 'im!" shrieked the old man, dancing to and fro in his impatience, "'ere's a chance for 'im to earn a pore old cove a bit o' 'bacca money, an', what's better still, t' show a pore old fightin' man a bit o' real sport an' there 'e stands, staring like a perishing pork pig! Blimy, Guv, get behind an' 'elp me to shove 'im up-stairs."
See wot I mean?" I said that I did. "An' another thing; talk like 'em." I confessed that this might prove to be rather a large contract. "'Ard? S'y! 'Ere! If I 'ad you fer a d'y, I'd 'ave you talkin' like a born Lunnoner! All you got to do is forget all them aitches. An' you don't want to s'y 'can't, like that. S'y 'cawrn't." I said it. "Now s'y, 'Gor blimy, 'Arry, 'ow's the missus?" I did.
As he turned, felt with a foot for the uppermost rung, and began to descend, he was saluted by a voice hoarse with exposure, from the black bowels of the trench: "Blimy! but ye're back in a 'urry! Wot's up? Forget to put perfume on yer pocket-'andkerchief or wot?"
'It beats Saturday night in the gallery o' the old Brit., he said enthusiastically. 'That bloke blimy 'e ought to be doin' the star part at Drury Lane'; and he wiped his hot hands on his trousers and fell again to beating them together, palms and fingers curved cunningly, to obtain a maximum of noise from the effort. An officer passed hurriedly along the trench.
Half a dozen willing hands seized the dozing steed and roused it into madness. "Hi! stop 'er!" roared the cabman. "She's down!" shouted the excited crowd. "Tripped over 'er skirt," explained the slatternly woman. "They do 'amper you." "No, she's not. She's up again!" vociferated a delighted plumber, with a sounding slap on his own leg. "Gor blimy, if she ain't a good 'un!"
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