“Well, yes, rather. Y’see it was all right at Saia, and it’s all right here, but at Kalsia there’ll be Mrs. Prinny of the 97th, and Mrs. Prinny’s got baby, and baby’s got nurse. That’ll be rather tight, waoun’t it?” and the Royal Engineer removed a cigar ash from his pyjamas.
“Now if either of us should push on to Kalsia to-day,” he continued insinuatingly.
There was a pause.
“It’s awkward for us, y’see,” continued the R. E., “because we’re fishing.”
“How far is it?”
“’Bout twenty-six miles.”
“H’m! Rather long march for a lady.”
“Oh, yes—it would be long,” responded the Royal Engineer with an irresponsible air, “but then think of that awful nurse an’ baby.”
A quarter of an hour later the Brownes were off again. Crossing a bridge they passed the two Royal Engineers sitting upon one of the buttresses examining their fishing tackle. “We’re going to see if we can manage it,” remarked young Browne. “Good morning.”
The larger and finer of the Royal Engineers looked up. “Aw,” said he, “mustn’t over-do it, y’know.”