Fantasy fiction; Humorous stories; Jinn -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
"An' tell Eustace to.... Lumme, you must be wakin' up, Alf. Why, it'll
mean us 'avin' about three days extra leave. Come on!"
They strolled casually along the line without exciting comment or
interest on the part of their fellow-travelers scattered about the
line, and when the train started these were much too busily occupied
in scrambling back to their own places to notice that two of their
number had unostentatiously slipped behind a culvert. The train puffed
off busily; after it had gone a hundred yards or so a head appeared at
one of the windows.
"Keep down," cried Bill. "It's the gunner--wonder what 'e'll do with
our kits?"
The question was hardly out of his mouth before it was answered. The
gunner--obviously a creature of impulse--was seen to push the two packs
and rifles of his late companions out of the window of the train.
"Nice fool 'e'd 'ave looked if we'd been on the train arter all, in
another carriage," said Bill. "Still, p'raps it's just as well to 'ave
the things. Now for Blighty."
Alf removed the black covering which still shrouded his talisman.
"Better wait till the train's out o' sight," said Bill. "She seems to
be gettin' really started at last.... I s'pose there'll be plenty o'
beer in your new 'ouse?"
"If there ain't we'll jolly soon 'ave some. Tell you what, Bill: 'Ow'd
it be to 'ave one room in the 'ouse rigged up as a bar. We c'd 'ave
proper sanded floors, an' a barmaid, an'--an' no closing time. Just for
you an' me, so's we could 'ave a drink any ole time. Make it seem more
'omelike, wouldn't it?"
Bill stared at him in hopeless disgust.
"An' I thought you was beginnin' to think!" he said. "This fair takes
the biscuit. What low ideas you do 'ave! Why whatever'd the wife think,
an' your swell neighbors? You'll 'ave to be'ave like a gentleman, you
know, when you marries a lady."
"'Ow'm I goin' to do that?"
"I'll teach yer. You trust me."
"You! An' 'ow d'you know?"
"I do know. It's easy enough. Never you fear, I'll look after you."
Alf, looking a little skeptical, returned to the subject nearest his
heart.
"Well, then, when'll I be able to get a drink when I'm a gentleman?"
"Why, you can 'ave 'em all day long. You sits in one easy chair an' me
in another, an' a footman brings us whatever we wants."
"Lumme! A footman?"
"O' course. An' then, in the evenin', we 'as a reg'lar slap-up spread
every day of our lives, with your missus in laces an' diamonds: an'
then when she's finished 'er supper she goes off an' leaves us to
finish the drinks."
"'Ow d'you know she will?"
"They always does. 'Aven't you been to no plays, nor read no books?
Lucky you'll 'ave me to keep you straight. 'Ullo, the ole train's
pretty near out o' sight now. 'Adn't we better ...?"
Alf, his hand shaking excitedly, rubbed his Button.
Eustace appeared.
"That 'ouse," said Alf. "It's still all right about that, I s'pose?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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