'll jist chat with Doreen a little while;
But if yeh stop I'll be ashamed I came."
An' then she waves a letter in 'er 'and.
Sez she, "Our Jim's a soldier! Ain't it grand?"

"Good boy," sez Poole. "Let's see. I make it 'earts."
"Doubled!" shouts Begg. . . . "An' 'e's been in a fight,"
Sez Missus Flood, "out in them furrin' parts.
French, I suppose. I can't pronounce it right.
'E's been once wounded, somewhere in the leg. . . ."
"'Ere, Bill! Yeh gone to sleep?" asks Peter Begg.

I plays me Queen uv Spades; an' plays 'er bad.
Begg snorts. . . . "My boy," sighs Missus Flood. "My Jim." . . .
"King 'ere," laughs Poole. "That's the last Spade I 'ad." . . .
Doreen she smiles: "I'm glad yeh've 'eard from 'im.". . .
"We're done," groans Begg. "Why did yeh nurse yer Ace?". . .
"My Jim!" An' there was sunlight in 'er face.

"I always thought a lot uv Jim, I did,"
Sez Begg. "'E does yeh credit. 'Ere, your deal."
"That's so," sez Poole. "'E was an all-right kid.
No trumps? I'm sorry that's the way yeh feel.
'Twill take yeh all yer time to make the book." . . .
An' then Doreen sends me a wireless look.

I gets the S.O.S.; but Begg is keen.
"My deal," 'e yaps. "Wot rotten cards I get."
Ole Missus Flood sits closer to Doreen.
"The best," she whispers, "I ain't told yeh yet."
I strains me ears, an' leads me King uv Trumps.
"Ace 'ere!" grins Begg. Poole throws 'is Queen--an' thumps.

"That saves me Jack!" 'owls Begg. "Tough luck, ole sport." . . .
Sez Missus Flood, "Jim's won a medal too
For doin' somethin' brave at Bullycourt." . . .
"Play on, play on," growls Begg. "It's up to you."
Then I reneges, an' trumps me partner's Ace,
An' Poole gets sudden murder in 'is face.

"I'm sick uv this 'ere game," 'e grunts. "It's tame."
"Righto," I chips. "Suppose we toss it in?"
Begg don't say nothin'; so we sling the game.
On my wife's face I twigs a tiny grin.
"Finished?" sez she, su'prised. "Well, p'r'aps it's right.
It looks to me like 'earts was trumps to-night."

An' so they was. An', say, the game was grand.
Two hours we sat while that ole mother told
About 'er Jim, 'is letter in 'er 'and,
An', on 'er face, a glowin' look that rolled
The miles all up that lie 'twixt France an' 'ere,
An' found 'er son, an' brought 'im very near.

A game uv Bridge it was, with 'earts for trumps.
We was the dummies, sittin' silent there.
I knoo the men, like me, was feelin' chumps:
Foolin' with cards whil