Page:Digger Smith (C.J. Dennis, 1918).djvu/30

22 I strains me ears, an' leads me King uv Trumps. "Ace 'ere!" grins Begg. Poole throws 'is Queen—an' thumps.

"That saves me Jack!" 'owls Begg. "Tough luck, ole sport." . . . Sez Missus Flood, "Jim's won a medal too For doin' somethin' brave at Bullycourt." . . . "Play on, play on," growls Begg. "It's up to you." Then I reneges, an' trumps me partner's Ace, An' Poole gets sudden murder in 'is face.

"I'm sick uv this 'ere game," 'e grunts. "It's tame." "Righto," I chips. "Suppose we toss it in?" Begg don't say nothin'; so we sling the game. On my wife's face I twigs a tiny grin. "Finished?" sez she, su'prised. "Well, p'r'aps it's right. It looks to me like  ' earts was trumps to-night."

An' so they was. An', say, the game was grand. Two hours we sat while that ole mother told About 'er Jim, 'is letter in 'er 'and, An', on 'er face, a glowin' look that rolled The miles all up that lie 'twixt France an' 'ere. An' found 'er son, an' brought 'im very near.

A game uv Bridge it was, with 'earts for trumps. We was the dummies, sittin' silent there. I knoo the men, like me, was feelin' chumps: Foolin' with cards while this was in the air.