“By the lord Harry, it’ll do,” I cried excitedly, smacking my hands together.
“What’ll do?”
“Wait, man, wait. It’s all coming up like a clear photo. How much taller am I of us two? By George, two inches. That’s a heap; but padding might take off some of it.”
“Perhaps you’d like to know how much thinner you are than I am next?” he said with a grin.
“That’s just what I would,” I replied to his still greater surprise. “Six inches, eh. That’s a lot.”
“And muscle too, not fat, mind that.”
“But I can get over that, easily enough.”
“When you’ve a minute to spare perhaps you’ll tell me why you take this sudden interest in my anatomy?” he asked drily, as he threw off my shooting coat and put on his jacket.
“I’m going to crown you and be your Majesty’s understudy at the same time, King Jack Burroughs. You won’t have a long reign, my boy—only a couple of minutes at most—that is if that second shed has the door I believe it has.”
“You’ll soon be understudying in a strait jacket at this rate, Ralph.”