"No, the old leg's fine. It's the stopping of the imports." He indicated the morning paper which he had just laid aside. "It's just about bust up my old business."
I took the paper and glanced down the list of prohibited articles. Clocks and parts thereof, perfumery, and quails (live) caught my eye. I didn't think it could be any of these.
"What was your business?" I asked.
"Fruit merchant, Sir. Barrow trade, you understand. 'Awker, some calls it. But it don't much matter now what it's called, 'cos it's bust up."
"Not quite bust up, is it?" I said. "Only a bit cut down for a time."
"That may be," he said, "but I got a strong affection for the trade, Sir, a very strong affection, and I can't 'elp feeling it. Why, rightly speaking, it was the fruit trade what got me my D.C.M."
"Did it though? How was that?"
"Well, it was like this. I bin callin' fruit a good many years. I could call fruit with anyone. When I calls ''Oo sez a blood orange?' at Kennington Lane, you could 'ear it pretty well as far as New Cross. Same with ''Ave a banana?' If you're to do the trade you must make the people 'ear. It ain't no good bein' like them chaps what stands in the gutter and whispers, 'Umberella ring a penny,' to their boots."
"But what about the D.C.M.?"
"I'm comin' to it, Sir. You see, I got it in connection with a little bit o' work Trones Wood way. Through various circs, fault o' nobody really, me and Sam Corney found ourselves alone alongside a dug-out full o' Bosches. If we'd 'ad a few bombs we'd 'a' bin all right, but we 'adn't. I sez to Sam, 'We must scare 'em,' I sez, and I shouts, ''Oo says a blood orange?' at the top o' my voice into the dug-out, which was dark, of course, and I stands in the doorway with my bayonet ready. I can't say what they mistook it for. Crack o' doom, Sam sez. But eight come out o' that dug-out with their 'ands up. I sent Sam off 'ome with 'em, though they'd 'a' gone with no escort at all, I reckon, bein' sort o' stunned. And I went on down the trench.