rranged for later," Anthony put
in hastily. "You see, Johnson, although----"

"Anthony," his friend interrupted firmly, "you'll have to pardon me, but
there are some things about which you know no more than an unborn kitten
and one of them is physical training. I, on the other hand, have paid
out about five thousand dollars to different specialists, and what I
don't know about keeping fit hasn't been discovered yet. You do your
share for the kid and I'll do mine, and later on he'll thank me more
than he does you, Stand up, David."

"But----"

"Stand up and I'll show you the elementary ideas of boxing," smiled
Johnson Boller. "Come! Don't be a mollycoddle!"

He waited, fists clenched loosely, smiling artlessly--although it was a
bitter, cowardly thing that was in his heart.

Johnson Boller, be it admitted, intended to beat up David Prentiss; with
the youngster's good as his shallow pretext, he meant to bruise David's
young anatomy--and when this bruising was over to contrive another
occasion and bruise it further--and after that to discover additional
excuses and continue the bruising--until David Prentiss should flee the
flat in sheer terror.

Hence, he smiled again and said:

"Come, kid! Come! Stand up or I'll soak you right there!"

"Johnson!" Anthony said sharply.

"Like that!" said Johnson Boller, jabbing suddenly before the protest
could take form.

And now Anthony cried aloud, for the boy had toppled over backward--and
almost immediately Anthony's teeth shut with a click. Because young
David, eyes flashing, had bounced up again and was on his feet. One of
his small fists, tight shut, had whisked out and met Johnson Boller's
countenance with a loud crack.

And Mr. Boller, expelling his breath with an amazed hiss, had lost his
balance and was sitting on the floor!

CHAPTER VII

The Butterfly

One bad feature of having passed one's earlier days in the remote
fastnesses of New England, in the era before the automobile and the
telephone came to complicate life, is that one's ideas of womanhood are
likely to be definite and rooted.

Part of Anthony's boyhood had been spent in a Massachusetts hamlet nine
miles from the nearest railroad, and at forty-five he had not fully
recovered from some of the effects.

Even after decades of New York, Anthony's notion of woman embodied a
prim creature, rather given to talking of her sorrows, able to faint
prettily on occasion, and, unless born to the coa