I snored gently, knowing that if Mulvaney were uninterrupted he would go on.  The clamour from the bivouac fires beat up to the stars, as the rival singers of the companies were pitted against each other.

‘So I felt that way an’ a bad time ut was.  Wanst, bein’ a fool, I wint into the married lines more for the sake av spakin’ to our ould colour-sergint Shadd than for any thruck wid women-folk.  I was a corp’ril then—­ rejuced aftherwards, but a corp’ril then.  I’ve got a photograft av mesilf to prove ut.  “You’ll take a cup av tay wid us?” sez Shadd.  “I will that,” I sez, “tho’ tay is not my divarsion.”

’"‘Twud be better for you if ut were,” sez ould Mother Shadd, an’ she had ought to know, for Shadd, in the ind av his service, dhrank bung-full each night.

’Wid that I tuk off my gloves—­there was pipe-clay in thim, so that they stud alone—­an’ pulled up my chair, lookin’ round at the china ornaments an’ bits av things in the Shadds’ quarters.  They were things that belonged to a man, an’ no camp-kit, here to-day an’ dishipated next.  “You’re comfortable in this place, sergint,” sez I. “’Tis the wife that did ut, boy,” sez he, pointin’ the stem av his pipe to ould Mother Shadd, an’ she smacked the top av his bald head apon the compliment.  “That manes you want money,” sez she.

‘An’ thin—­an’ thin whin the kettle was to be filled, Dinah came in—­my Dinah—­her sleeves rowled up to the elbow an’ her hair in a winkin’ glory over her forehead, the big blue eyes beneath twinklin’ like stars on a frosty night, an’ the tread av her two feet lighter than waste-paper from the colonel’s basket in ord’ly-room whin ut’s emptied.  Bein’ but a shlip av a girl she went pink at seein’ me, an’ I twisted me moustache an’ looked at a picture forninst the wall.  Niver show a woman that ye care the snap av a finger for her, an’ begad she’ll come bleatin’ to your boot-heels!’

’I suppose that’s why you followed Annie Bragin till everybody in the married quarters laughed at you,’ said I, remembering that unhallowed wooing and casting off the disguise of drowsiness.

‘I’m layin’ down the gin’ral theory av the attack,’ said Mulvaney, driving his boot into the dying fire.  ’If you read the Soldier’s Pocket Book, which niver any soldier reads, you’ll see that there are exceptions.  Whin Dinah was out av the door (an’ ‘twas as tho’ the sunlight had shut too)—­“Mother av Hiven, sergint,” sez I, “but is that your daughter?”—­“I’ve believed that way these eighteen years,” sez ould Shadd, his eyes twinklin’; “but Mrs. Shadd has her own opinion, like iv’ry woman,”—­“’Tis wid yours this time, for a mericle,” sez Mother Shadd.  “Thin why in the name av fortune did I niver see her before?” sez I.  “Bekaze you’ve been thrapesin’ round wid the married women these three years past.  She was a bit av a child till last year, an’ she shot up wid the spring,” sez ould Mother Shadd.  “I’ll thrapese no more,” sez I.  “D’you