Mitchener.  How dare you indulge in this unseemly mirth in the presence of your commanding officer?  Have you no sense of a soldier’s duty?

The orderly (sadly).  Im afraid I shant ever get the ang of it, sir.  You see my father has a tidy little barbers business down off Shoreditch; and I was brought up to be chatty and easy like with everybody.  I tell you, when I drew the number in the conscription it gave my old mother the needle and it gev me the ump.  I should take it very kind, sir, if youd let me off the drill and let me shave you instead.  Youd appreciate my qualities then:  you would indeed sir.  I shant never do myself justice at soljering, sir:  I cant bring myself to think of it as proper work for a man with an active mind, as you might say, sir.  Arf of its only ousemaidin; and the other arf is dress-up and make-believe.

Mitchener.  Stuff, Sir.  Its the easiest life in the world.  Once you learn your drill all you have to do is to hold your tongue and obey your orders.

The orderly.  But I do assure you, sir, arf the time they’re the wrong orders; and I get into trouble when I obey them.  The sergeants orders is all right; but the officers dont know what theyre talkin about.  Why the orses knows better sometimes.  “Fours” says Lieutenant Trevor at the gate of Bucknam Palace only this morning when we was on duty for a State visit to the Coal Trust.  I was fourth man like in the first file; and when I started the orse eld back; and the sergeant was on to me straight.  Threes, you bally fool, he whispers.  And he was on to me again about it when we came back, and called me a fathead, he did.  What am I to do, I says:  the lieutenant’s orders was fours, I says.  Ill show you whos lieutenant here, e says.  In future you attend to my orders and not to iz, e says:  what does he know about it?  You didnt give me any orders, I says.  Couldnt you see for yourself there wasnt room for fours, e says:  why cant you think?  General Mitchener tells me Im not to think but to obey orders, I says.  Is Mitchener your sergeant or am I, e says in his bullyin way.  You are, I says.  Well, he says, youve got to do what your sergeant tells you:  thats discipline, he says.  What am I to do for the General I says.  Youre to let im talk, e says:  thats what es for.

Mitchener (groaning).  It is impossible for the human mind to conceive anything more dreadful than this.  Youre a disgrace to the service.

The orderly (deeply wounded).  The service is a disgrace to me.  When my mother’s people pass me in the street with this uniform on, I ardly know which way to look.  There never was a soldier in my family before.

Mitchener.  There never was anything else in mine, sir.

The orderly.  My mother’s second cousin was one of the Parkinsons of Stepney. (Almost in tears.) What do you know of the feelings of a respectable family in the middle station of life?  I cant bear to be looked down on as a common soldier.  Why cant my father be let buy my discharge?  Youve done away with the soldier’s right to have his discharge bought for him by his relations.  The country didnt know you were going to do that or it would never have stood it.  Is an Englishman to be made a mockery like this?