“Bless us!” he said. “Why, Flo, I’m ’shamed o’ yer hignorance. Why there’s markises, and dooks, and there’s kings and queens—all them’s bigger than hearls, Flo.”
“Is queens the biggest of all swells?” asked Flo.
“Sartinly, they be the biggest woman swells.”
“Then, Dick, I’ll s’pose to be the biggest swell, I’ll s’pose to be a queen. Find me hout a queen to take Pattern of, Dick.”
“Oh! Flo, there ain’t none yere, there be but one queen, Flo, and ’ers away, locked hup at Bucknam Palace. You can’t s’pose to be the queen, Flo, but I guess we’ll be the hearl and the hearl’s wife, and let us s’pose now as we is turnin’ in fur our dinners, and the kivers is orf the roast beef, and the taters is ’ot and mealy, and a whackin’ big puddin’ is to foller.” At this juncture, when Dick’s imagination was running riot over his supposed dinner, and Flo’s little face was raised to his with a decided gesture of dissent, a hand was laid familiarly on his shoulder, and turning quickly he discerned the smiling, mischievous face of his friend Jenks.
“Wot ails the young ’un?” said Jenks.
Dick was ashamed of his play beside his tall friend (Jenks was fourteen), and answered hastily—
“Nothing.”
But Flo replied innocently, and in an injured tone—
“I wants fur to be a queen, and there is no queens hout this arternoon fur me to take pattern of.”