The Darby Kid, a bright dancing light in her eyes and all a-flutter, rushed in. The Nailer crossed over to a table at which sat Mollie Squint. The Darby Kid joined them.
“W'at do youse think?” cried the Darby Kid. “I'm comin' out of me flat when th' postman slips me a letter from Harry th' Soldier.”
“Where is he?” asked Mollie Squint.
“That's th' funny part. He's in th' Eyetalian Army, an' headed for Africa. That's a fine layout, I don't think! An' he says I'm th' only goil he ever loves, an' asts me to join him! Ain't he got his nerve?”
“W'y? You ain't mad because he croaks Butch?”
“No. But me for Africa!—the ideer!”
“About Dopey Benny?” said the Nailer.
“Harry says Benny got four spaces in Canada. It's a bank trick—tryin' to blow a box in Montreal or somethin'.”
“Then you won't join Harry?” remarked Mollie Squint.
“In Africa? When I do, I'll toin mission worker.”