"I'm as hungry as ninety-seven pigs," he said, and pulled a biscuit
from his haversack.
"Now I've got 'dog,' who has 'maggot'?"
"Dog and maggot" means biscuit and cheese, but none of us had the
latter; cheese was generally flung into the incinerator, where it
wasted away in smoke and smell. This happened of course when we were
new to the grind of war.
"I've found out something," said Mervin, rubbing the sweat from (p. 070)
his forehead and looking over the parapet towards the firing line. A
shell whizzed by, and he ducked quickly. We all laughed, the trenches
have got a humour peculiarly their own.
"There's a house in front," said Mervin, "where they sell _cafe noir_
and _pain et beurre_."
"Git," muttered Bill. "Blimey, there's no one 'ere but fools like
ourselves."
"I've just been in the house," said Mervin, who had really been absent
for quite half an hour previously. "There are two women there, a
mother and daughter. A good-looking girl, Bill." The eyes of the
Cockney brightened.
"Twopence a cup for black coffee, and the same for bread and butter."
"No civilians are allowed here," Pryor remarked.
"It's their own home," said Mervin. "They've never left the place, and
the roof is broken and half the walls blown away."
"I'm for coffee," Stoner cried, jumping over the parapet and stopping
a shower of muck which a bursting shell flung in his face. We were
with him immediately, and presently found ourselves at the door (p.
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