Bobby fought his way through the rain to the Tail Twisters'
temporary mess, and Revere could have fallen on the boy's neck
for the joy of seeing that ugly, wholesome phiz once more.
'Keep' em amused and interested,' said Revere. 'They went on the
drink, poor fools, after the first two cases, and there was no
improvement. Oh, it's good to have you back, Bobby! Porkiss is a
never mind.'
Deighton came over from the Artillery camp to attend a dreary
mess dinner, and contributed to the general gloom by nearly
weeping over the condition of his beloved Battery. Porkiss so far
forgot himself as to insinuate that the presence of the officers
could do no earthly good, and that the best thing would be to send
the entire Regiment into hospital and 'let the doctors look after
them.' Porkiss was demoralised with fear, nor was his peace of
mind restored when Revere said coldly: 'Oh! The sooner you go
out the better, if that's your way of thinking. Any public school
could send us fifty good men in your place, but it takes time, time,
Porkiss, and money, and a certain amount of trouble, to make a
Regiment. 'S'pose you're the person we go into camp for, eh?'
Whereupon Porkiss was overtaken with a great and chilly fear
which a drenching in the rain did not allay, and, two days later,
quitted this world for another where, men do fondly hope,
allowances are made for the weaknesses of the flesh.
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