'You'll give me my revenge surely!' exclaimed Facey, in pretended astonishment.
'To-morrow night,' replied Sponge firmly, thinking it would have to go hard with him if he remained there to give it.
'Nay, now!' rejoined Facey, adding, 'it's quite early. Me Oncle Gilroy and I always play much later at Queercove Hill.'
Sponge hesitated. If he had got the money, he would have refused point-blank; as it was, he thought, perhaps the only chance of getting it was to go on. With no small reluctance and misgivings he mixed himself another tumbler of gin and water, and, changing seats, resumed the game. Nor was our discreet friend far wrong in his calculations, for luck now changed, and Facey seemed to have the king quite at command. In less than an hour he had not only wiped off the eight-and-twenty shillings, but had scored three pound fifteen against his guest. Facey would now leave off. Sponge, on the other hand, wanted to go on. Facey, however, was firm. 'I'll cut you double or quits, then,' cried Sponge, in rash despair. Facey accommodated him and doubled the debt.
'Again!' exclaimed Sponge, with desperate energy.
'No! no more, thank ye,' replied Facey coolly. 'Fair play's a jewel.'
'So it is,' assented Mr. Sponge, thinking he hadn't had it.
'Now,' continued Facey, poking into the table-drawer and producing a dirty scrap of paper, with a little pocket ink-case, 'if you'll give me an "I.O.U.," we'll shut up shop.'
'An "I.O.U.!"' retorted Sponge, looking virtuously indignant. 'An "I.O.U.!" I'll give you your money i' the mornin'.'