Had they got their hair up? Girls don't
usually put out their tongues at young men after their hair is up,
so I presume they were _very_ young. It was like you to ask your
uncle to send Willie the parcel.
Miss Tod is not so brisk just now. The doctor says she must either
drink less tea or become a chronic dyspeptomaniac. She prefers the
latter. Poor old thing, her joys are few and simple! Trade is not
so bad. A new line in poetical patriotical postcards is going
well. The poetry is the worst yet.
I am sending you some cigarettes with my uncle's best wishes and a
pair of socks with mine. Perhaps you have enough socks from home
already. If so, give them to W. T., and ask him from me to
practise blushing. He can begin by winking at himself in a mirror
thrice daily.
When are you going to get leave again? Miss Tod says I can get
away at 6, any night I want to. No; I don't want you to stop
putting those marks in your letters. If you can find one in this
letter, you may take it, and I hope it will make you half as happy
as I want you to be. Good-night.
CHRISTINA.
IX
THE FAT GIRL
Never a day passed without its camp rumour. If Macgregor was
disposed to be over-credulous, his friend Willie was sceptical
enough for two.
'I hear we're for the Dardanelles next week,' the former observed
one afternoon.
Willie snorted. 'What the ---- wud they send us yins to the
Dardanelles afore we ken hoo to fire a rifle?'
'I heard it for a fac',' Macgregor returned imperturbably.
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