“You’re a rotten guesser, Bert. Oh, he might get in for a little old minute or deux.”
“No, I mean for the whole soixante, young chap; anyway for la plupart.”
“Tant s’en faut,” responded Tommy, “meaning you’re talking foolishment. Chick’s no use this year, Bert, and Johnny’s discovered it. You know it, too, just as well as I do.”
“Oh, come, why pick on Chick? Of course he’s had his bad days, but so have all of them.”
“Not so mal as Chick’s,” said Tommy decidedly. “If I thought there was any chance of Johnny using Chick Burton against Kenly I’d—”
“What would you do, son?” asked Bert amusedly.
“Put a stop to it.”
Bert laughed. “Tommy, you’re delicious! Pass the peanuts. How would you go about it, young fellow?”
Tommy wagged his head knowingly and screwed up his eyes as one who could tell but wouldn’t. “Never you mind,” he murmured. “I could do it.”
“Who’s had a touch of the sun now?” jeered Bert. “Sounds like you and Johnny are pretty thick. Does everything you say, eh?”