“It’s an unco’ hard life, laddie.”
“The one I’m leading is a harder,” said Doggie. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“Then I’ve one piece of advice to give you,” said McPhail. “Sink the name of Marmaduke, which would only stimulate the ignorant ribaldry of the canteen, and adopt the name of James, which your godfathers and godmothers, with miraculous foresight, considering their limitations in the matter of common sense, have given you.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Doggie.
“Also it would tend to the obliteration of class prejudices if you gave up smoking Turkish cigarettes at ten shillings a hundred and arrived in your platoon as an amateur of ‘fags.’”
“I can’t stand ‘fags,’” said Doggie.
“You can. The human organism is so constituted that it can stand the sweepings of the elephants’ house in the Zoological Gardens. Try. This time it’s only ‘fags.’”
Doggie took one from the crumpled paper packet which was handed to him, and lit it. He made a wry face, never before having smoked American tobacco.
“How do you like the flavour?” asked Phineas.
“I think I’d prefer the elephants’ house,” said Doggie, eyeing the thing with disgust.