“How goeth the great fight, Ike?” he asks.
“Well,” says I, clawing some of the hot-cake ingredients out of my hair,
“you can see my attitude so far, Dirty.”
“Hey, Ike!” says a voice at the door. “Where is my key?”
There stands Buck in the doorway.
“You ain’t done right by closing me up ahead of things.”
I’m hunting in my pockets when another figure darkens the door, and a
voice squeaks—
“Ike, they want you down at the hall.”
Scenery Sims stumbles inside.