oss of yours gives you a higher rank in the roll of glory than I can
pretend to.

O'FLAHERTY [relaxing]. I'm thankful to you, Sir Pearce; but I wouldn't
have anyone think that the baronet of my native place would let a common
soldier like me sit down in his presence without leave.

SIR PEARCE. Well, you're not a common soldier, O'Flaherty: you're a very
uncommon one; and I'm proud to have you for my guest here today.

O'FLAHERTY. Sure I know, sir. You have to put up with a lot from the
like of me for the sake of the recruiting. All the quality shakes hands
with me and says they're proud to know me, just the way the king said
when he pinned the Cross on me. And it's as true as I'm standing here,
sir, the queen said to me: "I hear you were born on the estate of
General Madigan," she says; "and the General himself tells me you
were always a fine young fellow." "Bedad, Mam," I says to her, "if
the General knew all the rabbits I snared on him, and all the salmon
I snatched on him, and all the cows I milked on him, he'd think me the
finest ornament for the county jail he ever sent there for poaching."

SIR PEARCE [Laughing]. You're welcome to them all, my lad. Come [he
makes him sit down again on the garden seat]! sit down and enjoy your
holiday [he sits down on one of the iron chairs; the one at the doorless
side of the porch.]

O'FLAHERTY. Holiday, is it? I'd give five shillings to be back in the
trenches for the sake of a little rest and quiet. I never knew what hard
work was till I took to recruiting. What with the standing on my legs
all day, and the shaking hands, and the making speeches, and--what's
worse--the listening to them and the calling for cheers for king and
country, and the saluting the flag till I'm stiff with it, and the
listening to them playing God Save the King and Tipperary, and the
trying to make my eyes look moist like a man in a picture book, I'm that
bet that I hardly get a wink of sleep. I give you my word, Sir Pearce,
that I never heard the tune of Tipperary in my life till I came back
from Flanders; and already it's drove me to that pitch of tiredness
of it that when a poor little innocent slip of a boy in the street the
other night drew himself up and saluted and began whistling it at me, I
clouted his head for him, God forgive me.

SIR PEARCE [soothingly]. Yes, yes: I know. I know. One does get fed up
with it: I've been dog tired myself on parade many a time. But still,
you know, there's