"How much round the chest?"
"Forty-two."
"Round the arm?"
"Twenty."
"Got a shovel?"
Mr. Prince's smile gave place to a suspicious frown. "I could get one," he said, at last.
"Bring it along to-morrow," commanded the doctor. "We want you to sit. You'll be well paid. You're out of work, I suppose?"
"I'm out of work all right," responded Mr. Prince. "But—but ... what you want me to do?" demanded Mr. Prince.
"Never mind that," he was told. "Just come along. And wear your oldest clothes. And bring the spade."
To the surprise of both Baffin and the doctor, Clarence did come along, accompanied by the spade. He was very out of work indeed, it seemed, and had sold his medals to pay for the comfort of having his teeth out, and for subsequent treatment at the "African Chief." He wanted work, and was willing, but this yere sitting game—"what was it?"