‘I onnerstand, m’sieu,’ broke in Papa. ‘The ordaire it is retreat and, parbleu! ze good soldat he obey ze ordaire. Quand ze ordaire ees fight, ze good soldat he fight; eh, is it not?’
‘Egg-zackly,’ said the corporal. ‘Certimong, Papa.’
‘Bien,’ said Papa. ‘I know you spik true. I have seen ze Anglais fight. Zey are keel, peut-être, mais nevaire—how you say it?—run away. I have seen, and I know. I go now to spik it to ze peoples in la ville who is disconsole, peut-être, when ze retreat continue.’
‘That’s it, Papa,’ said the corporal. ‘An’ you tell ’em this army is never goin’ to run away. When the order is retreat, we retreat, even though we don’t like it. But one day the order will be to advance, an’ then we’ll show ’em. You tell ’em not to be afraid. The French is bound to win this war. We’ve come over to see it through with them, an’ we’re not goin’ ’ome till we’ve chased every dash German back to Germany. You savvy, when the time comes, en avong is the order, an’ avong we goes.’
It is very doubtful if Papa caught all the meaning of this harangue, but he got the sense of it and the last words at least.
‘En avant!’ he cried, leaping to his feet. ‘Vivent les Alliés! Vivent les Anglais!’
‘If you two ’as finished ’andin’ out bookays to each other,’ said the private, ‘p’raps you’ll ask Madam ’ere if she’s got a spare loaf we can put in our ’aversacks. There’s the fall-in sounding.’
LLEWELYN DAVIES AND THE WORKING MEN’S COLLEGE.
BY SIR CHARLES P. LUCAS, K.C.B., K.C.M.G.