When the hilarity had been somewhat checked, Hickey returned to the persecution of the blushing Turkey.
"Bet you three to one she's a mass of freckles," he said. "Bet you even she wears glasses; bet you one to three she's cross-eyed; bet you four to one she won't open her mouth."
"Hang you, Hickey!" said Turkey, flushing, "I won't have her talked about so."
"Did you take any dances?" said the Kid to Hickey.
"Me?" exclaimed the latter, in great dudgeon. "Me! Well, I guess not! I wouldn't touch any of that tribe with a ten-foot pole."
"Look here, you fellows have got to shut up," said Turkey, forced at last into a virtuous attitude by the exigency of the situation. "I promised the Beauty I'd fill his sister's card for him, and I'm going to do it. The girl can't help her looks. You talk like a lot of cads. What you fellows ought to do is to join in and give her a treat. The girl is probably from the backwoods, and this ought to be made the time of her life."
"Turkey," said the malicious Hickey, "how many dances have you eagerly appropriated?"
Turkey stopped point-blank, greeted by derisive jeers.
"Oho!"
"That's it, is it?"