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"We didn't think, Philip," one of them said, "when you used to take the lead in our fights with the boys of the town, that you would be so soon fighting in earnest, in France; and that in three years you would have gained knighthood." "I did not think so myself, Archer. You used to call me Frenchie, you know; but I did not think, at the time, that I was likely ever to see France.
When the noises in the street grew louder it caused no particular comment. It was the usual thing. But when a crowd burst into the Royal Flush, Mignon sprang to her feet with a cry of anguish. "Dealt me a raw deal, didn't yeh, you smart Frenchie?" gloated Buckeye Pete. "Well, look at your man.
But when that Frenchie came in he told the Malay chaps to untie 'em, so that I could wait upon you and precious glad I was." "But how did you manage to see to give me the water?" "I couldn't in the night, sir; but I can now. It's no use to tell the poor chap that it's quite light, for he's all puzzled-like yet," thought the private. Then aloud, "I'd just go to sleep a bit now, sir, if I was you."
"Ke..." Zaletaev, brought out with effort: "ke-e-e-e," he drawled, laboriously pursing his lips, "le-trip-ta-la-de-bu-de-ba, e de-tra-va-ga-la" he sang. "Fine! Just like the Frenchie! Oh, ho ho! Do you want some more to eat?" "Give him some porridge: it takes a long time to get filled up after starving." They gave him some more porridge and Morel with a laugh set to work on his third bowl.
"You're a nice one to 'act so as to deceive, you are," he said warmly. "I s'pose a khaki sleeve is likely to make the 'Uns believe we're French. Now, you watch me." He pulled back his tunic sleeve, held his shirtsleeved arm up the moment the next wave came, and motioned a reply. "He's in a hole o' some sort," said 'Enery. "Now I wonder who it is. A Frenchie by his tunic sleeve."
Irish Minnie gave her a sandwich and an apple. The girls all jumped on me: “The way you let that Frenchie work ya! Gee! you believe everything anybody tells ya.” “But,” says I, “she's been a widow only three weeks and I'm terrible sorry for her.” “How d'ya know she ever had a husband?” “How d'ya know he's dead?” “How'd ya....” The skepticism of factory workers appals me.
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