"Wot on earth's the matter, Ginger?"

"Nor me," ses Peter. "Not a brass farthing."

"There's no call to be nasty about it, mates," ses Sam. "I 'ad the best
fight I ever 'ad in my life, and I must put up with the loss. A man
can't 'ave it all his own way."

"'Ow much was it?" ses Peter.

"Ten brace-buttons, three French ha'pennies, and a bit o' tin," ses Sam.
"Wot on earth's the matter, Ginger?"

[Illustration: "'Wot on earth's the matter, Ginger?'"]

Ginger didn't answer him.