explained to the nurse that "The Bull and Bush" was a kind of _cabaret_,
she hastened from ward to ward to tell the men that after all the
Englishman might have selected a worse spot to entertain his girl. He
was at once the joy and the despair of the whole hospital, and the nurse
had much trouble in consoling the patients when "our English" was
removed.

When Tommy indulges in the use of the French language, he abbreviates it
as much as possible.

One hot summer's day, driving from Boulogne to Fort Mahon, halfway down
a steep hill we came upon two Tommies endeavouring to extract a
motor-cycle and a side-car from a somewhat difficult position. They had
side-slipped and run into a small tree. The cycle was on one side and
the side-car on the other, and a steel rod between had been rammed right
into the wood through the force of the collision.

My three companions and myself endeavoured to help the men to pull out
the rod, but the united efforts of the six of us proved unavailing. We
hailed a passing cart and tied the reins around the motor-cycle, but
immediately the horse commenced to pull the leather of the reins
snapped. Behind the cart walked a peasant. Only one adjective can
possibly describe him--he was decidedly "beery." He made no attempt to
help, but passed from one Tommy to the other, patting them on their
backs, assuring them "that with a little goodwill all would be well."
There was a dangerous glint in the younger Tommy's eye, but in the
presence of ladies he refrained from putting his thoughts into words.
Finally, his patience evaporating, he suddenly turned on the peasant and
shouted at him, "Ong, ong." It took me some time to grasp that this was
Tommy's abbreviated version of "Allez-vous en" ("Clear out"). In any