WOMAN
Piece o’ trumpery! “Who goes” yourself! What d’ye talk o’, John
Whiting! Can’t your eyes earn their living any longer, then, that
you don’t know your own neighbours? ’Tis Private Cantle of the
Locals and his wife Keziar, down at Bloom’s-End—who else should
it be!
OLD MAN [lowering his pike]
A form o’ words, Mis’ess Cantle, no more; ordained by his Majesty’s
Gover’ment to be spoke by all we on sworn duty for the defence o’ the
country. Strict rank-and-file rules is our only horn of salvation in
these times.—But, my dear woman, why ever have ye come lumpering up
to Rainbarrows at this time o’ night?
WOMAN
We’ve been troubled with bad dreams, owing to the firing out at sea
yesterday; and at last I could sleep no more, feeling sure that
sommat boded of His coming. And I said to Cantle, I’ll ray myself,
and go up to Beacon, and ask if anything have been heard or seen to-
night. And here we be.
OLD MAN
Not a sign or sound—all’s as still as a churchyard. And how is
your good man?
PRIVATE [advancing]
Clk. I be all right! I was in the ranks, helping to keep the ground
at the review by the King this week. We was a wonderful sight—
wonderful! The King said so again and again.—Yes, there was he, and
there was I, though not daring to move a’ eyebrow in the presence of
Majesty. I have come home on a night’s leave—off there again to-
morrow. Boney’s expected every day, the Lord be praised! Yes, our
hopes are to be fulfilled soon, as we say in the army.
OLD MAN
There, there, Cantle; don’t ye speak quite so large, and stand
so over-upright. Your back is as holler as a fire-dog’s. Do ye
suppose that we on active service here don’t know war news? Mind
you don’t go taking to your heels when the next alarm comes, as you
did at last year’s.
PRIVATE
That had nothing to do with fighting, for I’m as bold as a lion when
I’m up, and “Shoulder Fawlocks!” sounds as common as my own name to
me. ’Twas—- [lowering his voice.] Have ye heard?
OLD MAN
To be sure we have.
PRIVATE
Ghastly, isn’t it!
OLD MAN
Ghastly! Frightful!