Jim and me could never 'ave got through the six weeks we was billeted with
Mrs. Sweedle if we 'adn't been 'ardened by Mrs. Larkins in the way I 'ave
described.
Mrs. Sweedle were a widow woman with a big family, besides a aged father
and a brother who suffered with fits. The billetin' orficer was afraid she
wouldn't he able to take us in, but Mrs. Sweedle was willin' and eager.
"Bless their hearts, that I will," she said; "it shall never be said I
turned a soldier from my door. Nobody knows better than I do what soldiers
is in an 'ouse. Always merry and bright and ready to put their 'ands to
anything when a poor woman's work's never done and she's delicate and
liable to the sick-'eadache in the mornin's. There's the week's clothes to
go through the wringer, but I know what soldiers is for a wringer; they
can't leave it alone. And if I 'appens to overlay meself I know there's no
cause to worry about Grandfer's cup o' tea, nor yet Bobby and Tom and
Albert gettin' off to school tidy. Like as not they'll do me more credit
than if I washed 'em meself; there's nobody like a soldier for puttin' a
polish on children."
Mrs. Sweedle overlaid herself the very first mornin', and sent word by
Albert if we would be so kind as make her a cup o' tea when we was makin'
Grandfer's it might save her a doctor; and the wood for the fire was out in
the yard, and she knew, bein' soldiers, we should chop her a barrer-load
while we was about it; and when she crawled downstairs presently the
breakfast things would be washed and put away, as was the 'abit of
soldiers, and very likely the pertaters peeled for dinner.
It bein' a strange 'ouse and we not knowin' where to put our 'ands on
anythin', and, when we'd got the kettle to boil, not bein' able to let it
out of our sight owin' to the youngest little Sweedle wantin' to drink out
of the spout, Jim and me was regler drove. We was as near late for parade
as we 'ave ever been in our lives. Mrs. Sweedle was very upset. "I know
what soldiers is for punctuality," she said, "a minute late and they're
court-martialled. How would it be if you was to lay the fire over-night and
scrub over the floor? It 'ud save ye a lot in the mornin', if so be I'm
forced to keep me bed."
We done as she advised, and it were fortunate. She 'ad another
sick-'eadache the next day, and sent word by Albert would we be so good as
bake her a mouthful of toast; she knew what soldiers' toast was like, it
give ye a appetite to look at it, thin and crisp, with the butter laid on
smooth as cream and cut in fingers.
We never run no risk after that. 'Owever dog-tired we was and 'owever Mrs.
Sweedle seemed in 'ealth we always got the work forward over-night, and
when we could catch 'old of Bobby and Tom and Albert we washed 'em to save
time in the mornin' and parted their 'air.
One day Mrs. Sweedle were well enough to get up. "I know who's goin' to
'ave a treat now," she said. Our 'arts leapt. We did 'ope she might be
goin' to say we was to sit down to our breakfasts.
"Grandfer's goin' to be shaved, and not 'ave to pay tuppence out of 'is
poor pension," she said. "There's nobody can shave like a soldier." And
when Jim 'ad got the old man by the nose she said to me, "I can see what
you want to be at, shakin' these mats with your strong arm and savin' me
comin' on giddy."
It were very 'ard at first, but after a bit Jim and me got into the work at
Mrs. Sweedle's and was just able to get through with it, except the mornin'
her brother 'ad a fit when we was racin' to finish the washin'-up. That
fair broke our backs. We 'ad a sort of seizure on parade and 'ad to fall
out till we got our breaths back.
* * * * *