“An’ that,” said Mulvaney, illogically, “is the cause why little Jhansi McKenna is fwhat she is. She was brought up by the Quartermaster Sergeant’s wife whin McKenna died, but she b’longs to B Comp’ny; and this tale I’m tellin’ you-wid a proper appreciashin av Jhansi McKenna—I’ve belted into ivry recruity av the Comp’ny as he was drafted. ‘Faith, ’twas me belted Corp’ril Slane into askin’ the girl!”
“Not really?”
“Man, I did! She’s no beauty to look at, but she’s Ould Pummeloe’s daughter, an’ ’tis my juty to provide for her. Just before Slane got his promotion I sez to him, ‘Slane,’ sez I, ‘to-morrow ’twill be insubordinashin av me to chastise you; but, by the sowl av Ould Pummeloe, who is now in glory, av you don’t give me your wurrud to ask Jhansi McKenna at wanst, I’ll peel the flesh off yer bones wid a brass huk to-night, ’Tis a dishgrace to B Comp’ny she’s been single so long!’ sez I. Was I goin’ to let a three-year-ould preshume to discoorse wid me—my will bein’ set? No! Slane wint an’ asked her. He’s a good bhoy is Slane. Wan av these days he’ll get into the Com’ssariat an’ dhrive a buggy wid his—savin’s. So I provided for Ould Pummeloe’s daughter; an’ now you go along an’ dance agin wid her.”
And I did.
I felt a respect for Miss Jhansi McKenna; and I went to her wedding later on.
Perhaps I will tell you about that one of these days.
THE MADNESS OF PRIVATE ORTHERIS
Oh! Where would I be when my froat was dry?
Oh! Where would I be when the bullets fly?
Oh! Where would I be when I come to die?
Why,
Somewheres anigh my chum.
If ’e’s liquor ’e’ll give me some,
If I’m dyin’ ’e’ll ’old my ’ead,
An’ ’e’ll write ’em ’Ome when I’m dead.—
Gawd send us a trusty chum!
—Barrack Room Ballad.
My friends Mulvaney and Ortheris had gone on a shooting-expedition for one day. Learoyd was still in hospital, recovering from fever picked up in Burma. They sent me an invitation to join them, and were genuinely pained when I brought beer—almost enough beer to satisfy two Privates of the Line ... and Me.