“Horribly, Pete. Is mine?”
Pete showed his teeth in a broad grin.
“Well, it would be all the better for a wash, sir, before you went in to mess. We might have a bit of a sluice. But I suppose it would be risky to try and get closer in to the bank?”
“You couldn’t, Pete. It would be impossible to force the sampan through this tangle. Why do you want to move? We are in a capital place.”
“I was thinking of getting some soft mud out of the bank to use instead of soap. It’s wonderful cleansing, sir. I know what I should like to do.”
“Not talk, Pete, for you are doing that now?”
“Yes, sir, I know,” said the poor fellow sadly. “I feel as though if I didn’t go on saying things and thinking of doing something, I should go half-dotty.”
“Nonsense, Pete! See how beautiful it is all round.”
“Yes, sir, lovely! But who’s going to enjoy it when your inside keeps on saying, ‘Soup and ’tater—soup and ’tater—soup and ’tater,’ and there ain’t none? Plenty of croc soup, of course. But, I say, Mister Archie, sir, think it would be safe to bathe?”
“No; but I think you must be half-dotty, as you call it, to propose such a thing.”