“You won’t be happy till you’ve been reported, my man,” said the patient.
“And I sha’n’t be happy then, mate. Want a drink o’ water?”
“Yes; but things are managed here so that the patients have to beg and pray for it.”
“And then they gets it,” said the orderly good-humouredly as he dipped the tin again; “and that’s more than you can say about what most chaps begs and prays for. There you are.”
“Well, help me up,” said the corporal.
“Yah! Sit up. You can.”
“Oh!” groaned the man in a peculiar way which sounded as if he were not satisfied with its effectiveness, and so turned it into a whine.
“Won’t do with me, corp’ral,” said the man. “You gammoned the doctor, but you haven’t took me in a bit.”
“Only wait!” said the patient in a miserable whining tone this time. “How cowardly! What a shame for such as you to be put in charge of wounded men!”
“Wounded!” said the orderly, laughing. “Why, your skin is as whole as mine is. You’ve frightened yourself into the belief that you’re very bad.”