'Come and have some tiffin.'
They ate in silence. As the evening fell, Private Dormer broke
forth, speaking to himself
'Hi was on the Durh'm Canal, jes' such a night, come next week
twelve month, a-trailin' of my toes in the water.' He smoked and
said no more till bedtime.
The witchery of the dawn turned the gray river-reaches to purple,
gold, and opal; and it was as though the lumbering dhoni crept
across the splendours of a new heaven.
Private Dormer popped his head out of his blanket and gazed at the
glory below and around.
'Well damn my eyes!' said Private Dormer in an awed whisper.
'This 'ere is like a bloomin' gallantry-show!' For the rest of the day
he was dumb, but achieved an ensanguined filthiness through the
cleaning of big fish.
The boat returned on Saturday evening. Dormer had been
struggling with speech since noon. As the lines and luggage were
being disembarked, he found tongue.
'Beg y' pardon, sir,' he said, 'but would you would you min' shakin'
'ands with me, sir?'
'Of course not,' said Bobby, and he shook accordingly. Dormer
returned to barracks and Bobby to mess.
'He wanted a little quiet and some fishing, I think,' said Bobby. 'My
aunt, but he's a filthy sort of animal! Have you ever seen him clean
''them muchly-fish with 'is thumbs"?'
'Anyhow,' said Revere three weeks later, 'he's doing his best to
keep his things clean.
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