hnson. Not one particle! Do they, David?"

"Not a bit!" David said faintly from the corner toward which he was
backing.

"So let this physical-training rot rest!" cried the master of the
apartment. "Go and dress and----"

"My dear fellow," Johnson Boller broke in mildly, "you are, so far as
physical training goes, a nice old lady. But for Heaven's sake, if
you're going to keep this boy, don't try to bring him up along similar
lines. Go look over your bean-pole anatomy, and you'll need no further
argument. This kid is young and supple, and fit to be whacked into a
real man and--say, get out of here for fifteen minutes, Anthony, will
you?"

"Why?"

"I'm going to strip this youngster and look him over, and then start him
on the right track," Mr. Boller said with an unconscious and
affectionate glance at his fist.

"Mr. Fry!" gasped David.

"Well, has this mollycoddle stuff in the air infected you, too?" Johnson
Boller asked tartly. "Don't you want to be a man?"

"No!"

Johnson Boller laughed scornfully.

"Anthony, I think your presence is a bad influence," he said. "Will you
please get out of here? Shed that bathrobe, kid, and let's see if
there's anything to you but pulp!"

"No!" said David.

"Well, I say yes, and I say it for your own good!" Johnson Boller said
firmly as he advanced. "I'm going to make a man of you!"

"You can't!" said David thinly.

"I can, boy! Believe me, I can!" Mr. Boller smiled. "Get out of that
robe!"

He was advancing. Ten seconds more and he would lay violent hands on
David, and Anthony Fry, with a wrench that racked his very soul, hurled
back every emotion and contrived a really quiet smile. More, even; when
he spoke it was in the tone of one merely amused and slightly tried in
patience.

"You mean well, old chap," he said, laying a firm hand on Johnson
Boller's arm, "but you're a crank on this gymnastic business. Don't be
absurd, please--you're fairly frightening the boy. Later on, perhaps,
when he is more accustomed to you and the surroundings, and all that
sort of thing, you may take him in hand. Just now it is well past seven
o'clock, and I'm hungry. Come to your senses and get dressed, Johnson,
if only as a favor."

His eye was firm and steady; and having faced it for a moment, Johnson
Boller shrugged his shoulders again. And yet he had not inflicted even
one bruise on David, but pressing the matter now was likely to do no
more than excite Anthony, and there was st