"Ginger," said Bindle approvingly, "the next pint yer 'as yer drinks wi' me, see?" After a pause Bindle continued, "Now yer got to kill three Germans, Ginger, as a sort of apology for 'avin' three babies. That'll square things."
"I don't want to kill Germans," growled Ginger.
"Then why did yer do it?" asked Wilkes.
"It's all through that rosy song. Blimey! I get fair sick of it."
Bindle laughed joyously.
"I thought you was goin' to 'ammer the next cove as said it, Ging. Why didn't yer?" he remarked.
"I couldn't 'ammer the 'ole yard, could I? They used to sing it every time I come in, so I 'listed."
There was a general laugh at this.
"Well, Ginger, you been an' done the right thing. 'Uggles may laugh, Wilkes may show that 'e ain't got no teeth, and Bill may pump up dirty words, but you done right. I wish," he added reflectively, "I 'adn't various veins. I'd look tasty in khaki a-tryin' to keep 'Uggles from runnin' away. 'Ow about you, Weary?" The last remark was addressed to a heavy-looking man who seemed half-asleep.
"I'm goin' to wait an' see," the man replied, with a strange movement of his lips, which his intimates were able to recognise as a smile.