BUCKTHORN. So am I; but my occupation, and old Barket's, too, is gone.
Always at work on new clothes for our little soldier?
EDITH. He's growing so, I can hardly make them fast enough for him. But this is the time for his afternoon nap. I must go now, to see if he is sleeping soundly.
BUCKTHORN. Our dear little mother! [Tapping her chin.] I always claim the privilege of my white hair, you know. [She, puts up her lips; he kisses her. She goes out.] The sweetest young widow I ever saw! [BARKET coughs. BUCKTHORN turns sharply; BARKET salutes.] Well! What the devil are you thinking about now?
BARKET. The ould time, sur. Yer honour used to claim the same privilege for brown hair.
BUCKTHORN. You old rascal! What a memory you have! You were telling me for the hundredth time about the battle of Cedar Creek; go on. I can never hear it often enough. Kerchival West was a favourite of mine, poor fellow!
BARKET. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began, when the Colonel rode to the front to mate his raytrating rigiment—
BUCKTHORN. I'll tell Old Margery to bring in tea for both of us,
Barket.
BARKET. For both of us, sur?
BUCKTHORN. Yes; and later in the evening we'll have something else, together. This is a great day for all of us. I'm not your commander to-day, but your old comrade in arms—[Laying his arm over BARKET'S shoulder.]—and I'm glad I don't have to pull myself up now every time I forget my dignity. Ah! you and I will be laid away before long, but we'll be together again in the next world, won't we, Barket?
BARKET. Wid yer honour's permission. [Saluting.