Page:Digger Smith (C.J. Dennis, 1918).djvu/29

Rh "Good boy," sez Poole. "Let's see. I make it 'earts." "Doubled!" shouts Begg. . . . "An' 'e's been in a fight," Sez Missus Flood, "out in them furrin' parts. French, I suppose. I can't pronounce it right. 'E's been once wounded, somewhere in the leg. . . ." " 'Ere, Bill! Yeh gone to sleep?" asks Peter Begg.

I plays me Queen uv Spades; an' plays 'er bad. Begg snorts. . . . "My boy," sighs Missus Flood. "My Jim." . . . "King 'ere," laughs Poole. "That's the last Spade I 'ad." . . . Doreen she smiles: "I'm glad yeh've 'eard from 'im.". . . "We're done," groans Begg. "Why did yeh nurse yer Ace?" . . . "My Jim!" An' there was sunlight in 'er face.

"I always thought a lot uv Jim, I did," Sez Begg. "'E does yeh credit. 'Ere, your deal." "That's so," sez Poole. "'E was an all-right kid. No trumps? I'm sorry that's the way yeh feel. 'Twill take yeh all yer time to make the book." . . . An' then Doreen sends me a wireless look.

I gets the S.O.S.; but Begg is keen. "My deal," 'e yaps. "Wot rotten cards I get." Ole Missus Flood sits closer to Doreen. "The best," she whispers, "I ain't told yeh yet."