Part 16 (1/2)

He looks at me for a tip, and that gives him a hunch. ”But the professor--” says he.

”Oh, Professor McCabe doesn't mind us a bit; do you now, professor?”

says sister, b.u.t.tin' in, real coy and giddy.

”I can stand it if you can,” says I, and she tips me a goo-goo smile that was all to the candied violets.

”There!” says the mother. ”Now go right on as though we were not here at all. But remember not to be too rough, Jarvis, dear.”

I grins at that, and Jarvis dear looks foolisher than ever. But the ladies had settled themselves in front seats, and there didn't seem to be anything to do but to play marbles or quit an' go home. And say, I don't know which looked more like a stage-hand caught in front of the drop, Jarvis or me. We went through some kind of motions, though, until I begins to get over bein' rattled. Then I tries to brace him up.

”Little faster with that right counter there,” says I. ”And block more with your elbow. Ah, you're wide open--see?” and I taps him once or twice. ”Now look out for this left lead to the face. Come, use that right a little. 'Tain't in a sling, is it? Foot-work, now. You side-step like a truck-horse. There, that's the article. Now let 'em come--block, counter, guard!”

You see, I was doin' my best to work up a little excitement and get Jarvis to forget the audience; but it wasn't much use. About all we did was to walk around and pat each other like a pair of kittens. There'd been as much exercise in pa.s.sin' the plate at church.

Mother thought it was lovely, though, and sister had that gushy look in her eyes that her kind wears after they've been to see Maude Adams.

Lady Evelyn, though, didn't seem to be struck silly by our performance.

She acted as though someone had been tryin' to sell her a gold brick.

Her nose was up in the air, and she'd turned a shoulder to us, like she was wonderin' how long it would be before the next act was put on.

Couldn't blame her, either. That was the weakest imitation of a sparrin'

bout I ever stood up in.

But there was no stirrin' Jarvis. He'd got stage-fright, or cold feet, or something of the kind. It wa'n't that he didn't know how, for he had all the tags of a good amateur about his moves; but somehow he'd been queered. So, as soon as we can, we quits. Then sister gets her chance to gush. She rushes to the front and turns the baby stare on me like I was all the goods.

”Oh, it was just too sweet for anything!” says she. ”Do you know, professor, I've always wanted to see a real boxing-match; but Jarvis would never let me before. He's told me horrid stories about how brutal they were. Now I know they're nothing of the sort. I shall come every time you and Jarvis have one, and so will Lady Evelyn. You didn't think it was brutal, did you, Evelyn?”

Lady Evelyn humped her eyebrows and gave me one look. ”No,” says she, ”I shouldn't call it brutal, exactly,” and then she swallows a polite, society snicker in a way that made me mad from the ground up. Jarvis didn't lose any of that, either. I got a glimpse of him turnin'

automobile red, and tryin' to choke himself with his tongue.

”It's something like the wand drill we used to do at college,” says sister. ”Don't you like the wand drill, professor?”

”When it ain't done too rough, I'm dead stuck on it,” says I.

”I just knew you didn't like rough games,” says she. ”You don't look as though you would, you know.”

”That's right,” say I.

”Jarvis says that once you knocked out three men in one evening; but I'm sure you weren't rude about it,” she gurgles.

”And that's no pipe, either,” says I. ”I wouldn't be rude for money.”

”What is a knockout, anyway?” says she.

”Why,” says I, ”it's just pus.h.i.+n' a feller around the platform until he's too dizzy to stand up.”

”What fun!” says sister.

We makes a break for the dressin'-room about then, and the delegation clears out. On the way back to the station Jarvis apologizes seven different ways, and ends up by givin' me the cue to the whole game.