"Oh, I ain't goin' to do anythin' to you. I'm recon-noiterin' in my own. Say 'pore Tommy' 'alf-a-dozen times." The prisoner obeyed. "That's what's been puzzlin' me since I 'ad the pleasure o' meetin' you," said Copper. "You ain't 'alf-caste, but you talk chee-chee pukka bazar chee-chee. Proceed." "Hullo," said the Sergeant of the picket, twenty minutes later, "where did you round him up?"
Word Of The Day