"Beggin' yer pardon, but will yer honour be goin' back to the War?"
I said I hoped so some day.
"Listen, then—I'm wishin' ye would kill a German, two Germans, d'ye hear me now? Two Germans I'm afther wishin' ye."
Again he brandished a trembling fist aloft and again the billy, fearing naught, grazed its way up his back.
"Thanks, very good of you," said I. "I'll remember. Good day."
"Good day it is, an' God save yer honour!"
Then with an overwhelming burst of generosity he promoted me two ranks at once and wished again.
"Colonel," he said solemnly, though shaking with passion, "I'm afther wishin' ye three—ten—fifteen Germans!"
"Thanks," I said again, and picked up the reins, wondering if tragedy had shadowed the bogside that morning, if some grey-eyed, black-haired boy would come home no more from Flanders to that whitewashed cabin.
As I turned a beshawled girl poked her head round the door lintel and smiled at me.