"I wunner ye jined the Airmy at all, M'Slattery," observed one bold
spirit, when the orator paused for breath.
"I wunner myself," said M'Slattery simply. "If I had kent all aboot
this 'attention,' and 'stan'-at-ease,' and needin' tae luft your hand
tae your bunnet whenever you saw yin o' they gentry-pups of officers
goin' by,--dagont if I'd hae done it, Germans or no! (But I had a dram
in me at the time.) I'm weel kent in Clydebank, and they'll tell you
there that I'm no the man to be wastin' my time presenting airms tae
kings or any other bodies."
However, at the appointed hour M'Slattery, in the front rank of A
Company, stood to attention because he had to, and presented arms very
creditably. He now cherished a fresh grievance, for he objected upon
principle to have to present arms to a motor-car standing two hundred
yards away upon his right front.
"Wull we be gettin' hame to our dinners now?" he inquired gruffly of
his neighbour.
"Maybe he'll tak' a closer look at us," suggested an optimist in the
rear rank. "He micht walk doon the line."
"Walk? No him!" replied Private M'Slattery. "He'll be awa' hame in the
motor. Hae ony o' you billies gotten a fag?"
There was a smothered laugh. The officers of the battalion were
standing rigidly at attention in front of A Company. One of these
turned his head sharply.
"No talking in the ranks there!" he said. "Sergeant, take that man's
name."
Private M'Slattery, rumbling mutiny, subsided, and devoted his
attention to the movements of the Royal motor-car.
Then the miracle happened.
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