“Oh, Joe, if we only could!” cried his wife.
“Ah, if we on’y could,” said Joe thoughtfully.
“I know,” cried Mrs Corporal; “I’ll ask the Colonel next time I take him his washing back.”
“You just don’t,” said Joe; “because if you do he’ll say as you mustn’t.”
“Oh!” sighed Mrs Corporal; “that’s just what I’m ’fraid of.”
They were very silent as they sat by the camp-fire that night in an orange-grove, with the big stars peeping down at them, and Tom Jones, who took a great interest in what was said, sat and waited for ever so long, and then being tired out with the long day’s tramp, lay down to listen, and dropped off fast asleep, just as Joe Beane said thoughtfully:—
“Look here, missus, if I was on’y a private instead of being an officer I should say something, but as I am full corporal, why, I can’t.”
“Just think you are a private, Joe, and say it,” whispered his wife.
“Shall I?” he said slowly.
“Yes, Joe, dear, do. He’s such a nice boy.”