“I don’t seem to care as much for the accomplishment as I did then,” observed the girl with a smile, “but I do wish I could learn to swing my nice Indian clubs without cracking the back of my head.”
“I got a medal for club swinging,” said Biff diffidently. “I’ll teach you any time you like. It’s easy. Come right over to the gym on Tuesday and Friday forenoons. Those are ladies’ mornings, and I’ve got nothing but real classy people at that.”
The entrance of Mr. Platt interrupted Biff just as he was beginning to feel at ease, and threw that young gentleman, who always appropriated and absorbed other people’s troubles, into much concern; for Mr. Platt was hollow-eyed and sunken-cheeked from worry. His coat was very shiny, and his hat was shabby. The dusty and neglected drawing on his crude drawing-table told the story all too well. The engineering business, so far as Mr. Platt was concerned, seemed to be a total failure. Nevertheless, he greeted Mr. Bates warmly, and inquired after Mr. Burnit.
“He’s always fine,” said Biff. “He had me come up here to meet him.”
“I should scarcely think he would care to come here after the unfortunate outcome of the work I did for him,” said Mr. Platt.
“You mean on old Applerod’s Subtraction?”
“You couldn’t hardly call it the Applerod Addition, could you?” responded Jimmy with a smile. “That was a most unlucky transaction for me as well as for Mr. Burnit.”
Biff looked about the room comprehendingly.
“I guess it put you on the hummer, all right,” said he. “It don’t look as if you done anything since.”
“But very little,” confessed Mr. Platt. “My failure on that job hurt my reputation almost fatally.”