“Been doin’ a fine bit o’ coartin’, Doggie,” said Private Appleyard from Taunton, who was sitting on a box near by and writing a letter on his knees.
“Not so much of your courting, Spud,” replied Doggie cheerfully. “Who are you writing to? Your best girl?”
“I be writin’ to my own lawful mizzus,” replied Spud Appleyard.
“Then give her my love. Doggie Trevor’s love,” said Doggie, and marched away through the groups of men.
At the entrance to the barn he fell in with Phineas and Mo.
“Laddie,” said the former, “although I meant it at the time as a testimony of my affection, I’ve been thinking that what I said to the young leddy may not have been over-tactful.”
“It was taking it too much for granted,” explained Mo, “that you and her were sort of keeping company.”
“You’re a pair of idiots,” said Doggie, sitting down between them, and taking out his pink packet of Caporal. “Have a cigarette?”
“Not if I wos dying of——Look ’ere,” said Mo, with the light on his face of the earnest seeker after Truth. “If a chap ain’t got no food, he’s dying of ’unger. If he ain’t got no drink, he’s dying of thirst. What the ’ell is he dying of if he ain’t got no tobakker?”
“Army Service Corps,” said Phineas, pulling out his pipe.