"Screw her blazin' neck," suggested the same authority.
"Eggsac'ly," says the Corporal; "screw her blazin neck. George, you're knowin', you are. Oh the air'stocracy! They never was no good to England, and durn me if they don't get wuss. Never did no honest labour in their naturals. Lives high; drinks deep—ow! it turns me pink to mention 'em. It does, George Marshal; it does, John Pensioner; fair congests my liver. And fer brazing plucky impidence their wimmen is the wust. This here ladyship in perticular, a sweet piece, isn't she? Never does a stitch o' honest labour, but sucks pep'mint to find a thirst, and bibs canary wine to quench it. And it's you and me, George, you and me, John, as pervides this purple hussy wi' canary wine and pep'mint. Us I say, honest tillers o' the land, honest toilers o' the sea, as is the prop o' this stupendjous air'stocracy. It's we, I say, what finds 'em in canary wine and pep'mint. Poor we, the mob, the scum, the three-damned we what's not agoing to hevving when we dies. But who's this ladyship as she should let a prisoner out in the middle o' the night, and sends six humble men but honest a-scourin' half Yorkshire for him. As Joseph Flickers allus was polite he'll not tell you what her name is, but do you know what Joe'd do if he had a daughter who grew up to be a ladyship like her?"
"Drown her," Mr. George modestly suggested.
"George," says the Corporal, in a tone of ad-
