“Next Tuesday.”
“How do you feel?”
Jimmy expanded his chest, gave himself a solid punch and answered: “Great! Harder than a rock!”
“Feel sorry for ‘the Kid.’ How long are you goin’ to let him stay?”
“Oh, part o’ the second,” was Jimmy’s laughing assurance.
A sigh of pleasure and envy escaped the patrons. And they quickly announced their intention to be present at the joyous butchery.
Erna came back. She pretended to wipe off the neighboring table. Pretty soon, however, she was at Jimmy’s side.
“What’s the grouch?” he asked confidentially.
“Nothin’.”