I
should like to tell him not to write like an ass, when he knows he ought
to tell us everything."
"All right, tell him so," said Dudley, squaring his elbow and frowning
terribly as he prepared himself for the task. "You know what old Selby
says: 'Make your paper talk, my boys, and make it talk in your own
tongues.'"
After a great many interruptions from each other, and a few skirmishes
round the table which resulted in the ink bottle being spilt, the
letters were finished.
Roy read his aloud with pride to Dudley, who did the same to him.
"MY DEAR ROB:
"You must write us longer letters. I
am quite sure there is lots to tell. What do
you have to eat? And where do you sleep?
Have you got a gun of your own? Do they
let soldiers shoot rabbits on their half-holidays?
Does the band play while you are at dinner?
What are your clothes like, and what are you
to be called, now you're a soldier? When
will you be a sergeant, and is there any fighting
coming off soon? Old Principle says
you will be learning drill. What is drill? He
says it's learning how to march, but Dudley
and I can do that first-rate. How many masters
have you got? Write to me to-morrow
and tell me all.
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