“Beat ’im?” ses the landlord. He took ’is cigar out of ’is mouth as though ’e was going to speak, and then put it back agin and looked out of the window.
“Yes, beat ’im,” ses Ginger’. “You was there and saw it.”
“He lost the fight a-purpose,” ses the landlord, whispering. “Miss Tucker found out that you wasn’t a prize-fighter—leastways, I did for ’er—and she told Bill that, if ’e loved ’er so much that he’d ’ave ’is sinful pride took down by letting you beat ’im, she’d think diff’rent of ’im. Why, ’e could ’ave settled you in a minute if he’d liked. He was on’y playing with you.”
Ginger stared at ’im as if ’e couldn’t believe ’is eyes. “Playing?” he ses, feeling ’is face very gently with the tips of his fingers.
“Yes,” ses the landlord; “and if he ever hits you agin you’ll know I’m speaking the truth.”
Ginger sat back all of a heap and tried to think. “Is Miss Tucker going to keep company with ’im agin, then?” he ses, in a faint voice.
“No,” ses the landlord; “you can make your mind easy on that point.”
“Well, then, if I walk out with ’er I shall ’ave to fight Bill all over agin,” ses Ginger.
The landlord turned to ’im and patted ’im on the shoulder. “Don’t you take up your troubles afore they come, my lad,” he ses, kindly; “and mind and keep wot I’ve told you dark, for all our sakes.”
He put ’im down at the door of ’is lodgings and, arter shaking ’ands with ’im, gave the landlady a shilling and told ’er to get some beefsteak and put on ’is face, and went home. Ginger went straight off to bed, and the way he carried on when the landlady fried the steak afore bringing it up showed ’ow upset he was.