He says his 'ome
is a 'ell since the soldiers come. 'Ere they are walkin' down the street.
Quick, Billy! Mother ain't lookin'; turn yer nose up at 'em same as me."
To make up for her kindness to us Jim and me tried to do little odd jobs
about the house for Mrs. Dawkins, but somehow it all turned to wormwood. We
slipped out early one Sunday morning and begun siftin' the cinders in the
backyard, but she caught sight of us and 'ollered so at Dawkins she woke up
all the neighbours: "How can you lay there snorin', you great lazy
good-for-nothing, and look on while the defenders of your country is
wearin' themselves out 'siftin' your cinders?"
Dawkins tumbled off the mangle, thinkin' it was a fire, and he swore
terrible at me and Jim.
The young man lodger took against us too. When his washin' was on the line
we couldn't help noticin' he was very bad off for underclothes, and Jim and
me, havin' more shirts and socks that kind ladies had give us than we
knowed how' to wear, we took the liberty of wrappin' three of each in paper
with a label, "Hopin' no offence," and puttin' it in the chicken-'ouse
where he was in the habit of doin' his hair.
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