So the Quinns’ original investment was two dollars, and so was Tuttle’s; while I and Hatch give up four each for ourself and lady.
“Remember, it’s all jacks,” I says, “and everybody’s got to ante every time.”
But when Tuttle started dealin’ they was only six checks in the center.
“Somebody decorate the mahogany,” says Hatch, just as if he didn’t know his wife was the slacker.
She happened to be busy smoothin’ her hair at the time and, o’ course, didn’t hear.
I didn’t have no deuce or nothin’, so I stayed out o’ the first pot. Mrs. Hatch tossed her cards face down, as usual. Quinn and his wife was settin’ next to each other, so’s they could hold hands durin’ the lulls. It was his turn after Mrs. Hatch, and he opened the pot.
“Oh, look, dearie!” says Marion. “I’ve got two tens and a jack and two deuces. Is that any good?”
“It’s good enough for me,” says Hatch, and throwed down a pat straight, face up.
My Missus and Tuttle passed, and Quinn gracefully yielded the pot to his bride.
“Goody!” she says, gigglin’. “Let’s see! I got eight checks more than I started with. That’s eighty cents. What can I get with eighty cents? Some stockin’s, maybe, if they’s a sale.”
“You might of got some for yourself and your husband, both,” I says, “if you hadn’t called your hand before Hatch had a chance to come in.”
“Didn’t I play right, dearie?” she says to Quinn.