Private McGuire, lying in hospital, was very fractious. He pointedly refused to take a second dose of medicine, which was inordinately nasty. Several smiling nurses bent over him and urged him to be good.
“Come,” pleaded one, “drink this and you’ll get well.”
“And rosy, too!” chimed in a second.
M’Guire visibly brightened, and actually sat up in bed.
After surveying the pretty group, he inquired, eagerly, “What wan o’ yez is Rosy?”
ZEPPELINITIS
Mr. Meek was not very well, and the doctor had advised him to take a glass of beer occasionally “for his stomach’s sake.”
“It can’t be done, doctor; it can’t be done,” said Mr. Meek. “Although there is a barrel of beer in the cellar, my wife insists on my being teetotal for the duration of the war.”
“Tut, tut,” said the doctor, as he took his leave; “you must invent a way to overcome your wife’s scruples; an easy matter enough, surely?”
A few days later the medical man received a visit from Mrs. Meek, who was greatly concerned as to the state of her husband’s health. “I am afraid, doctor,” she said, “that the poor man has had a nervous breakdown. He’s continually fancying that he can hear Zeppelins, and goes to hide in the cellar; besides which he often appears to be somewhat strange and aggressive in his manner.”