It was the proudest moment o' Ginger Dick's life. He sat there like a
king, smiling 'orribly, and Sam's voice as he paid 'is losings sounded to
'im like music, in spite o' the words the old man see fit to use. It was
so 'ard to get Peter Russet's money that it a'most looked as though there
was going to be another prize-fight, but 'e paid up at last and went off,
arter fust telling Ginger part of wot he thought of 'im.

There was a lot o' quarrelling, but the bets was all settled at last, and
the landlord o' the Jolly Pilots, who was in 'igh feather with the money
he'd won, gave Ginger the five pounds he'd promised and took him 'ome in
a cab.

"You done well, my lad," he ses. "No, don't smile. It looks as though
your 'ead's coming off."

"I 'ope you'll tell Miss Tucker 'ow I fought," ses Ginger.

"I will, my lad," ses the landlord; "but you'd better not see 'er for
some time, for both your sakes."

"I was thinking of 'aving a day or two in bed," ses Ginger.

"Best thing you can do," ses the landlord; "and mind, don't you ever
fight Bill Lumm agin. Keep out of 'is way."

"Why? I beat 'im once, an' I can beat 'im agin," ses Ginger, offended.

"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