says so—”
“I can’t help what Bud says; I ain’t comin’.”
“Not comin’!” exclaimed Larry, his eyes rounder than ever.
“No!”
Larry’s wide mouth curved in a slow grin, and he nodded his close-cropped head; said he:
“Say, Kiddo, you know Young Alf’s a punishin’ fighter, I guess; you know as nobody’s never stopped him yet, don’t yer; you know as you’re givin’ him six pounds—say, you ain’t—scared, are ye?”
“Scared?” repeated Spike, frowning. “Do I look like I was scared? You know there ain’t any guy I’m scared of— but I promised Hermy—”
“Pip-pip!” grinned Larry. “Say, if you don’t turn up t’night, d’ye know what d’ bunch’ll say? Dey’ll say you’re a— quitter!”
“Well, don’t you say it, that’s all!” said Spike, laying aside his hat and clenching his fists.
“Not me!” grinned Larry. “There’ll be plenty to do that, I guess—dey’d call it after ye in d’ streets—dey’ll give ye th’ ha! ha! Dey’ll say Hermy Chesterton’s brother’s a quitter—a quitter!”
For a long moment Spike stood with bent head and hands tightly clenched, then crossing to the sideboard, he picked up his shabby cap.
“Who’s in my corner?”
“Now you’re talkin’, Kiddo; I know as you—”
“Who’s in my corner?”
“Bud an’ Lefty, ‘n’ say, I guess they can handle you all right, eh? ‘N’ say, come on, let’s cop a sneak before any one butts in—d’ fire escape for ours, eh?”
“Sure!” said Spike, climbing through the window. “Oh, there ain’t nobody goin’ t’ call Hermy Chesterton’s brother a quitter.”
“You bet there ain’t!” grinned Larry, “come on, Kid!”
CHAPTER XX
OF AN EXPEDITION BY NIGHT
“Why, Mr. Geoffrey, what you settin’ here in the dark for?”
“Is it dark, Mrs. Trapes?”
“My land! Can’t you see as it’s too dark t’ see, and—oh, shucks, Mr. Geoffrey!”
“Certainly, Mrs. Trapes! But can’t you see that the whole world—my world, anyway—is full of a refulgent glory, a magic light where nothing mean or sordid can possibly be, a light that my eyes never saw till now nor hoped to see, a radiance that may never fail, I hope—a—er—”
“Oh, go on, Mr. Geoffrey, go on. Only I guess I’ll light the gas jest the same, if you don’t mind!” Which Mrs. Trapes did forthwith. “But what was you a-doin’ of all alone in the dark?”
“Glorying in life, Mrs. Trapes, and praising the good God for health and strength to enjoy it and the fulness thereof—”
“‘Fulness thereof’ meanin’ jest what, Mr. Geoffrey?”
“The most beautiful thing in a beautiful world, Mrs. Trapes.”
“An’ that’s Hermy, I s’pose. An’ all that talk o’ glory an’ radiance an’ magic light means as you’ve been an’ spoke, I guess?”
“It does.”
“An’ what did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothin’?”
“Not with her lips, but—”
“Oh—her eyes, was it? Mr. Geoffrey, I’ll tell you what—a girl may look ‘yes’ with her eyes a whole week an’ say ‘no’ with her mouth jest once and mean ‘no’—when it’s to a peanut man—Lordy Lord! what’s that?” And Mrs. Trapes jumped as a hand rapped softly on the door, and stared horrified to see a human head protrude itself into the room while a voice said:
“Da Signorina she out, so me come tell-a you piece-a-da-noos—”
“Why, if it ain’t that blessed guinney! Go away—what d’ye want?”
Hereupon Tony flashed his white teeth, and opening the door, bowed with his inimitable grace, grew solemn, tapped his nose, winked knowingly, and laid finger to lip.
“My land!” said Mrs. Trapes, staring. “What’s the matter with the Eyetalian iji’t now?”
“Spike—he go make-a-da-fight!” whispered Tony hoarsely.
“Eh—Arthur fightin’—where?”
“He go make-a-da-box—he drink-a-da-booze, den he walk-a—so! Den da Signorina she-a-cry—”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, “you mean as that b’y’s off boxin’ again?”
