'How d'ye know?' asked Sponge.
'Saw by the dinner table as we passed,' replied Jack, adding, 'it reaches
nearly to the door.'
'Indeed,' said Sponge, 'I wonder who's coming?'
'Most likely Guano again; indeed, I know he is, for I asked his groom if he
was going home, and he said no; and Lumpleg, you may be sure, and possibly
old Blossomnose, Slapp, and, very likely, young Pacey.'
'Are they chaps with any "go" in them?--shake their elbows, or anything of
that sort?' asked Sponge, working away as if he had the dice-box in his
hand.
'I hardly know,' replied Jack thoughtfully. 'I hardly know. Young Pacey, I
think, might be made summut on; but his uncle, Major Screw, looks uncommon
sharp after him, and he's a minor.'
'Would he _pay_?' asked Sponge, who, keeping as he said, 'no books,' was
not inclined to do business on 'tick.'
'Don't know,' replied Jack, squinting at half-cock; 'don't know--would
depend a good deal, I should say, upon how it was done. It's a deuced
unhandsome world this. If one wins a trifle of a youngster at cards, let it
be ever so openly done, it's sure to say one's cheated him, just because
one happens to be a little older, as if age had anything to do with making
the cards come right.
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