anned soup and copper pans. I guess Danvers
thought I was draggin' his boss around by the hair; for I heard him yelp
once in a while, but he couldn't get loose.

Sir Peter began to leak all over his head, and his gray hair got mussed
up, and his eyes was bulgin' out; but I couldn't get him switched to
anything else. Not much! Shinny was a new game to him and he was stuck
on it. "Whee-yee!" he'd yell, and swing that crooked-handled cane, and
bang would go a fancy gas globe into a million pieces. But a little
thing like that didn't feaze him. He was out for goals, and he wasn't
particular what he hit as long as the ball was kept moving.

It was a hot pace he set, all right. Every time he swung I had to jump
two feet high, or else get it on the shins. And say! I jumped when I
could. I'd have given a sable-lined overcoat for a pair of leg-guards
just about then; and if I could have had that young bug-ward doctor to
myself for about ten minutes--well, he'd have learned something they
didn't tell him at Bellevue.

Course, I don't keep up reg'lar ring trainin' these days; but I'm
generally fit for ten rounds or so any old time. I thought I was in good
trim then, until that dippy old snoozer had rushed me for about
twenty-five goals. Then I began to breathe hard and wish someone would
ring the gong on him. There was no counting on when Mr. Gordon would
show up; but his footsteps wouldn't have made me sad. I've let myself in
for some jay stunts in my time; but this gettin' tangled up with a bad
dream that had come true--well, that was the limit. And I'd started out
to do something real cute. You could have bought me for a bunch of pink
trading stamps.

And just as I was wondering if this Bloomingdale seance was to go on all
day, Sir Peter gives out like a busted mainspring, slumps all over the
floor, and lays as limp as if his jaw had connected with a pile-driver.
For a minute or so I was scared clear down to my toe-nails; but after
I'd sluiced him with ice-water and worked over him a little, he came
back to the boards. He was groggy, and I reckon things was loopin' the
loops when he looked at 'em; but his blood pump was doing business
again, and I knew he'd feel better pretty soon.

I helped him up on the bucket, that being handiest, and threw a
three-finger slug of rye into him, and then he began to take an
inventory of things in general, kind of slow and dignified. He looks at
the broken glass on the car carpet, at the c