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Updated: May 23, 2025
Lumme, you wouldn't think the war was on, 'cept they all touch it a bit! The Better 'Ole I like, but you mightn't, knowing the real thing. But don't miss Carminetta if you have to stand all day for a seat in the gods. Well, I must be going. Damned rough luck, but no help for it. Let's have a last spot, eh?" Peter agreed, and the drinks were ordered. "Chin-chin," said his acquaintance.
An', Guv, I only ax because your 'appiness an' 'ers is mine s' 'elp me!" "How if it's the other way about, Old Un? Suppose she avoids me?" "Why lumme, Guv! 'T is a sure sign she needs persoot. Remember this: "'Im as would lovely woman woo 'E lovely woman must persoo, For if 'e don't, 't is plain as plain That feller 'e will woo in vain.
"No, please only one, sir!" she answered, dropping him a little, old-fashioned curtsey. "Crikey!" said he, staring, "so young, so tender, an' a game leg! A little angel wi' a broke wing lumme!"
"Now, then, mate, we can't get the blinking stretcher along this 'ere trench, so we'll 'ave to carry you." "Copped it?" asks an N.C.O. in a whisper. "Gawd! a fair crumpler," mutters the other. "Come on, Ginger, let's get off on the first stage for Blighty. On me back, we does it on me back. 'Ere, boy lumme! turn 'im over, Bill."
It seemed to strike him like a blow. "Isn't it about time to collect these men and explain things?" I suggested. "I don't believe any of them know you've come back." "They will!" said Ukridge grimly, coming out of his trance. "They soon will! Where's Beale! Beale!" The Hired Retainer came running out at the sound of the well-remembered voice. "Lumme, Mr. Ukridge, sir!" he gasped.
That's the ticket, sir," he continued, with gathering emphasis as he noted the impression he was causing. "Lumme a trip-wire: it might break, or the gong mightn't ring, or the blighter mightn't 'ear it. Wiv china every step he took 'e'd smash anuvver pot. Drahn a rum jar 'e would. But a trip-wire!" He spat impartially and resumed his tune. "By Jove, that's a splendid idea!"
I could do wiv a bit o' peck, an' I lay so could you. Lumme!" His triumphant face fell by the fraction of an inch. "What'll she do when she lands in 'ome, wivout a woman to git a cup o' tea for 'er? Or curl 'er 'air, or undo 'er st'yl'yoes an' things?" "She'll do wot other young wimmen does under sim'lar circumstances," said Mrs. Keyse enigmatically.
"'Oly 'eavens!" murmured Mr. Brimberly in a faint voice. The visitor, settling his bony elbows more comfortably, fanned himself until his sparse locks waved gently to and fro, and, nodding, spoke these words: "Oh, wake thee, oh, wake thee, my bonny bird, Oh, wake and sleep no more; Thy pretty pipe I 'ave n't 'eard, But, lumme, how you snore!" Mr. Brimberly stared; Mr.
"Poor soul!" he sighed gently, his impassive face transfigured by an extraordinary tenderness. "Poor frightened, weary soul so young, so very young, and now fled whither? Poor poor child Stop! Keep your beastly hands off her!" This to the bull-necked fellow, who flinched and drew away, snarling. "Lumme, me lord!" whined the second man, a small, mean person. "What's ye game?
Wot are we fightin' for? Wot'd th' Belgiums hever do fer us? Wot? Wot'd th' Rooshians hever do fer us? Wot's th' good of th' Frenchies? Wot's th' good of hanybody but th' Henglish? Gawd lumme! I'm fed up." And yet this man had gone out at the beginning and would fight like the very devil, and I verily believe will be homesick for the trenches if he is alive when it is all over.
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