I can't quite remember what happened after that. I should have liked to
have fed with that lassie, for her eyes sparkled like stars, and as the
Brass Hat was afraid of her it showed she was worth knowing. Still, she
wasn't my lassie, but his, and he mightn't have liked it, so I started
to retire. The Brass Hat gave me half a crown and said something about
being quite as keen on killing the waiter as I was; and then I found
myself out in Piccadilly again. It was some time before I found a
little pub where I got a good dinner, with beer, for eighteenpence. I
will say that for Londoners, mon, they do throw money aboot. Within an
hour or so I'd had a railway fare paid and been stood a good dinner.
But they take so much more out of you than what they give you, that's
my grievance.
Well, having had a good dinner, I strolled along for a bit, and then I
thought I'd have a motor-bus ride. As I was standing on the pavements
a 'bus stopped alongside me. Mon, I blushed and turned away ma head.
There, on the wee platform at the end, stood a lassie in a blue kilt
shorter than mine and high-top boots. Ma little sister wears longer
skirts! She was a brown, curly-haired lassie, quite twenty years old,
with a funny-shaped hat on her head and a cheeky smile on her lips.
"Want the Bank, Sandy?" says she.
"Lassie," says I, "war's a terrible thing! Go hame to your mither and
ask her to lengthen your kilt!"
"Kilt, indeed!" says the hussy, unabashed. "You're out of date, old
boy!" And she jerked the bell and the 'bus went off. She waved to me
from the stairs, but, of course, I took no notice. By now I was tired
of London, mon; I wanted a little peace. Coming to a cinema, I paid
saxpence at a little ticket-office and went through a hall that was all
mahogany and plush, with a sort of field-marshal in full dress sweeping
the marble floor. A lassie with a torch pulled a curtain on one side,
and I saw a man falling into a river with a motor-car chasing him. Then
the lights went up, and I saw I'd paid saxpence just to stand. I said
I'd been swindled, but the people round only cried "Hush!" and then the
lights went out again and some letters came up on the screen--"The Big
Advance on the Somme."
Mon, when you've been dodging shells and bullets for sixteen months,
and ruins and broken trees are the only sort of scenery you've seen,
you don't want to have "Big Advances" thrown at you on the pictures.
I think I began a speech, and I'm sure it would have been a fine one,
but things happen so sudden in London. I saw a shell coming over--on
the film, ye ken--and I ducked from force of habit and jostled one or
two people. In the excitement I upset a pretty lassie who picked up ma
helmet--it was in the dark, ye see--and then I was put out. I wanted to
go, or else they'd never have done it. After that---- Oh, is that your
train, mon?
"I should have liked to hear the remainder of your adventures in
London, Jock," I said, leaning out of the carriage window.
"There weren't any more," replied Jock, gazing suspiciously round him.
"I came straight here after that. I've had enough of London. I've only
three hours to wait the noo! I'll be feeling a wee-bit lonely, but----"
The train moved away suddenly. I saw the brawny man in khaki take up
his position by the bookstall, now closed. I waved to him, but he had
turned to granite again. Private McTosher had discovered London!