All sorts and conditions of soldiers drift into the place and discuss various matters over coffee and mince pies; they are men of all classes, who had been as far apart as the poles in civil life, and are now knit together in the common brotherhood of war. Caste and estate seem to have been forgotten; all are engaged in a common business, full of similar risks, and rewarded by a similar wage.
In one corner of the room a game of cards was in progress, some soldiers were reading, and a few writing letters. Now and again a song was heard, and a score of voices joined in the chorus. The scene was one of indescribable gaiety; the temperament of the assembly was like a hearty laugh, infectious and healthy. Now and then a discussion took place, and towards the close of the evening hot words were exchanged between Bill and his friend, the bright-eyed Cockney.
"I'll give old Ginger Nobby what for one day!" said the latter.
"Will you? I don't think!"
"Bet yer a bob I will!"
"You'd lose it."
"Would I?"
"Straight you would!"
"Strike me pink if I would!"
"You know nothin' of what you're sayin'."