-it's
cute. Well, Pinckney, what's doing?"

He drapes himself on a chair, gets his little silver-headed stick
balanced just so between his knees, pulls his trousers up to high-water
mark, and takes an inventory of me from the mat up. And say! when he got
through I felt as though he knew it all, from how much I'd weigh in at
to where I had my laundry done. Yes, Pinckney had a full set of eyes.
They were black; not just ordinary black, same's a hole in a hat, but
shiny an' sparklin', like patent leathers in the sun. If it hadn't been
for them eyes you might have thought he was one of the eight-day kind
that was just about to run down. I ought to have got next to Pinckney's
model, just by his lamps; but I didn't. I'm learnin', though, and if I
last long enough I'll be a wise guy some day.

Well, when Pinckney finishes his census of me he says: "Professor, I
wish to take a private course, or whatever you call it. I would like to
engage your exclusive services for about three weeks."

"Chic, chic!" says I. "Things like that come high, young man."

Pinckney digs up a sweet little check-book, unlimbers a fountain-pen,
and asks: "How much, please?"

"Seein' as this is the slack season with me, I'll make it fifty per,"
says I.

"Hour or day?" says he.

Maybe I was breathin' a bit hard, but I says careless like: "Oh, call it
fifty a day and expenses."

Business with the pen. "That's for the first week," says Pinckney, and I
see he'd reckoned in Sunday and all.

"When can you come on?" says I.

"I'll begin now, if you don't mind," says he.

Then it was up to me; so I goes to work. Inside of ten minutes I had a
fair notion of how Pinckney was put up. He wasn't as skimpy as he'd
looked from the outside, but I saw that it wouldn't be safe to try the
mitts: I might forget and put a little steam into the punch--then it
would be a case of sweepin' up the pieces.

"Hold that out," says I, chuckin' him the shot-bag.

He put it out; but all there was in him was bracin' that arm.

"What you need," says I, "is a little easy track-work in the open,
plenty of cold water before breakfast, and sleep in ten-hour doses."

"I couldn't sleep five hours at a stretch, much less ten," says he.

"We'll take something for that," says I.

We gets together a couple suits of running-togs, sweaters, towels and
things, and goes downstairs where Pinckney has a big plum-colored
homicide wagon waitin' for him.

"Tell Goggles to point for J