“Hello,” laughed Lee, glancing across at the bottle, “What are you taking now, Freddie?”
“This is a new consignment of dope, Max,” he replied good-naturedly. “It’s guaranteed to contain the real wallop. Made up of yeast, raisins, vitamines and monkey glands. Don’t be surprised to see me challenging the heavy-weight champion next spring.”
Jolvin, whose mind at the moment may have been grappling with serious business problems, was evidently irritated by Stalton’s remark. Suddenly his face whirled directly about toward Mauney, who nearly jumped with astonishment. “For God’s sake,” whispered Jolvin, “I wish he’d stop that stuff at breakfast.” Then his head snapped back to receive the last spoonful of his cornflakes.
“One would fancy,” he said aloud, “it would stop raining!”
“Yes,” murmured Stalton. “One would. But I guess there’s a few bucketfuls left up there yet.”
“How’s the tooth this morning, Freddie?” enquired Miss Grote, as she walked into the room.
“It’s still in my head, Sadie, but I expected it would jump out, about two this morning.
“For God’s sake,” whispered Jolvin into Mauney’s ear; “he can’t talk about anything, but teeth—teeth!”
He made a nervous stab at a rasher of bacon and cleared his throat. “I fancy,” he said aloud, “we’ll be getting some prime weather after this!”
“Yes, no doubt,” replied Stalton. “This rain ought to prime anything, including the cistern pump.”