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?"