"Are we really?" Bowdy enquired.
"Of course we are," was the answer. "And we're going to get paid, too, this evening...."
They were going back for a rest, probably to Cassel, and they knew such a delightful billet there, the Y—— Farm....
Bowdy breathed in the fresh air. Away behind the firing line the sun was sinking and a soft, luminous glow settled on the roofs of the houses near.
"We should have a bit of a spree to-night," said the cook, raising the dixie of the waggon, placing it on the ground, and stirring it with a long ladle. "At the café round the corner. A champagne supper, a song, and an all-round entertainment. Are you game for it?"
"Blimey, of course we're game for it," said Spudhole. "Wot time will it start?"
"'Arf past seven."
"Righto," said Bubb and Bowdy in one voice. "We'll be there."