"I'm ower bonny for that," answered Spud in a good-humoured way.
"Ha! ha! ha! What a face!"
"What's wrang wi' ma face?"
"It's like a burst German sausage."
"She's got ye that time," said an old packman in the opposite corner; "but whaur are ye gaun?"
[pg 9] "Tae jine the Mileeshy."
"Man, I'm a piper in that 'crush.' You'll like it—it's great sport. But mind Sergeant-Major Fireworks. He's a holy terror. He's got a chist like a horse, and a breist o' tin medals. When he howls the dogs start barking, and when he curses he mak's ye shiver as if ye had the fever. But he'll mak' a man o' ye."
"What d'ye get tae eat?"
"Hard breid, skilly, bully beef, an' army duff. You'll smell the beef a mile away. And mind the blankets."
"What's wrang wi' them?"