"Net yet, thank thi, Molly. Aw havn't done wi this—ther's a bit ov a spree to be had aght on it yet mun, aw heeard ivery word at they said, an what does ta think! They've left Slinger ith' pigcoit waitin', an aw meean to keep him theear for a bit." Soa sayin,' he quietly crept aght, an went raand to th' back o' th' pigcoit.
"Slinger! are ta thear?"
"All reight, lad; have yo fun ought?"
"Nut yet, but we're just gooin to do; tha munnat stir, whativer tha does. Its a rare do is this. It'll be th' makin' on us, mun."
"Does ta think we shall get made into sargents?" axed Slinger.
"I lad, an corporals too, aw'll be bun; but bowd thi whisht, whatever tha does—we'll come for thi as sooin as we want thi; does ta think tha could sup a drop o' summat if tha had it?"
"Aw wish aw'd chonce, that's all.'"
"Well, bide thi time, an aw'll send thi some."
Jim then walked away, an leavin' Slinger screwed up like a dishclaat, he went into th' haase, and call'd for a quart.
"Well, what's come o' Slinger?" said Molly.