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Updated: May 25, 2025
Through no merit of my own it was my good fortune to be in a measure admitted to their friendship frankly by Mulvaney from the beginning, sullenly and with reluctance by Learoyd, and suspiciously by Ortheris, who held to it that no man not in the Army could fraternize with a red-coat. "Like to like," said he. "I'm a bloomin' sodger he's a bloomin' civilian. 'Tain't natural that's all."
"Ho! it's weary waitin' for Ma-ary!" he hummed; "but I'd like to kill some more bloomin' Paythans before my time's up. War! Bloody war! North, East, South, and West." "Amen," said Learoyd, slowly. "Fwhat's here?" said Mulvaney, checking at a blurr of white by the foot of the old sentry-box. He stooped and touched it. "It's Norah Norah M'Taggart!
Pleasant is the lot of the special correspondent who falls into such hands as those of Privates Mulvaney, Ortheris, and Learoyd. 'An' that's all right, said the Irishman calmly. 'We thought we'd find you somewheres here by. Is there anything av yours in the transport? Orth'ris 'll fetch ut out.
Learoyd was lying at full length on the turf of the glacis, kicking his heels in the air, and I came round the corner and asked for Mulvaney. Ortheris spat into the ditch and shook his head. 'No good seein' 'im now, said Ortheris; ''e's a bloomin' camel. Listen.
'Twas a dhirty thrick to play on a comrade, for why should you, Learoyd, be balancin' yourself on the butt av a satin chair, as if Terence Mulvaney was not the aquil av anybody who thrades in jute! 'Let alone me/ sticks in Orth'ris, 'but that's like life. Them wot's really fitted to decorate society get no show while a blunderin' Yorkshireman like you
Years passed away and the relations between husband and wife grew steadily worse, till at length the crisis came. A new barman was appointed at the Woolpack, a man whom Anne Learoyd had known during her early life in Leeds. Rumour was soon busy with the relations which existed between the barman and the farmer's wife, and after a time suspicious stories reached the ears of Samuel Learoyd.
I believe Ortheris preaches mutiny on those occasions, and I know that the mere presence of Learoyd mourning for Mulvaney kills all the cheerfulness of his room. The sergeants tell me that he allows no man to laugh when he feels unhappy. They are a queer gang. 'For all that, I wish we had a few more of them.
'Tis hard crool hard even for us. Fwhat must it be for these? Wake up, Nonie, your mother will be woild about you. Begad, the child might ha' fallen into the ditch! He picked her up in the growing light, and set her on his shoulder, and her fair curls touched the grizzled stubble of his temples. Ortheris and Learoyd followed snapping their fingers, while Norah smiled at them a sleepy smile.
"The worrst night that iver I remimber. Eyah! Is all Hell loose this tide?" said Mulvaney. A puff of burning wind lashed through the wicket-gate like a wave of the sea, and Ortheris swore. "Are ye more heasy, Jock?" he said to Learoyd. "Put yer 'ead between your legs. It'll go orf in a minute." "Ah don't care. Ah would not care, but ma heart is plaayin' tivvy-tivvy on ma ribs. Let me die!
In the process known as religious conversion there are usually three well-marked stages: first of all comes conviction of sin, then repentance, and finally a sense of forgiveness and peace. Learoyd attained the first stage in the process that stormy night in the little Methodist chapel. In a dull, blurred way he arrived too at a state of repentance for the evil he had done.
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