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Updated: June 15, 2025
They all looked deuced keen and businesslike, as if from youth up they had been working in the office and catching the boss's eye and what-not. They shook hands with the old boy with a good deal of apparent satisfaction all except one chappie, who seemed to be brooding about something and then they stood off and became chatty. "What message have you for Birdsburg, Duke?" asked our pal.
But to the devil with literature, I am sick of it; who the deuce cares if Gustave Kahn writes well or badly. Yesterday I met a chappie whose views of life coincide with mine. "A ripping good dinner," he says; "get a skinful of champagne inside you, go to bed when it is light, and get up when you are rested."
McMurtrey was about to interpose, but Grief restrained him with his eyes. "If it positively is the last, all right," said Peter Gee, gathering up the cards. "It's my deal, I believe. As I understand it, this final is for fifteen pounds. Either you owe me thirty or we quit even?" "That's it, chappie. Either we break even or I pay you thirty." "Getting blooded, eh?"
"Chappie was perfectly right!" "No, but I mean . . ." "Absolutely correct-o," insisted Algy sternly. "Underhill can't dash about all over the place giving the girl he's engaged to the mitten because she's broke, and expect no notice to be taken of it.
"Not I!" he laughed, almost scornfully. "He's pulling round, poor little beast! Here we are." He reached for his coat and wrapped the terrier in it, and quite unconscious of the girl's watchful eyes, held the little black-and-tan head to his face for a moment. "All right now?" he murmured. "You've had a narrow squeak for it, old chappie!"
I don't want to bore you, don't you know, and all that sort of rot, but I must tell you about dear old Freddie Meadowes. I'm not a flier at literary style, and all that, but I'll get some writer chappie to give the thing a wash and brush up when I've finished, so that'll be all right.
And if the sight killed Herrick's hunger, the isolation weighed so heavily on the clerk's spirit that he was scarce risen from table ere he was currying favour with his former comrade. Herrick was at the wheel when he approached, and Huish leaned confidentially across the binnacle. "I say, old chappie," he said, "you and me don't seem to be such pals somehow."
My idea was that, in a case like this, it's no good trying opposition. What you want is to work it so that the chappie quits of his own accord. You want to egg him on to overdoing the thing till he gets so that he says to himself, "Enough! Never again!" That was what was going to happen to Harold. When you're going to do a thing, there's nothing like making a quick start.
In fact, but for circumstances over which I had no dashed control, I am inclined to think that we should have brought it off. I'm bound to say that, now that what the poet chappie calls the first fine frenzy has been on the ice for awhile and I am able to consider the thing calmly, I am deuced glad we didn't.
"Here we are," called the cabbie, and Jurgis awakened his companion. Master Freddie sat up with a start. "Hello!" he said. "Where are we? Whuzzis? Who are you, hey? Oh, yes, sure nuff! Mos' forgot you hic ole chappie! Home, are we? Lessee! Br-r-r it's cold! Yes come 'long we're home it ever so hic humble!"
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