"That means, I suppose, that you never raise a hand unless somebody pays you to do it. That'll never do, boy. Regular, scientific training means everything to a man who wants to keep his health. Look at me! Ten years ago I weighed fifty pounds more than I do now—sick half the time and disgusted with life the other half. I got over it and to-day I feel like a two-year-old. What did it?"
David was looking at Anthony.
"Exercise did it!" stated Johnson Boller. "Stand up here?"
"What for?" David asked quickly.
"I'm going to teach the first principles of bounding health to you."
"If David needs any training, it can be arranged 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.