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Job, how long hasta bin here? I looked round an', by t' Mass! who sud I see but Abe Verity." "Abe Verity!" I exclaimed. "Ay, 'twere Abe hissen, plain as life. "So I said: 'Hullo! Abe, how ista? "'Just middlin', says Abe, 'an' how's thisen? How long hasta bin here? "Well, I didn't hardlins know what to say to him.
"What's he sendin' naa, I'd like to know?" asked Annie, in a tone of real or feigned indifference. "He's allus wearin' his brass on all maks o' oddments that he's fun i' them mucky trenches, or bowt off uther lads. Nay, tha can oppen it thisen, muther; my hands is all covered wi' suds."
When he gets a bit owder, he can laik at sodgers wi' it. "I've coom aat o' t' trenches an' am enjoyin' a rest-cure behind t' lines; so don't thou worry thisen abaat me. I'm champion, an' I've nowt to do but eyt an' sleep an' write a two-three letters when I've a mind to; and what caps all is that I'm paid for doin' on it.
When thou wants to know what to do or how to do it, thou just sets thisen down, an' t' inner voice starts talkin' to thee an' keeps on talkin', while thou gets agate o' doin' what it tells thee." Job's story was gripping my imagination as nothing had done before.
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