"Thank you, I have no time this evening, I fear—"
"Time? It won't take any—it's right the end of this block. You can't do any studyin' before supper-time, anyhow, because it's near that now. I got something for you there."
They turned into Stark's, a brilliantly-lit and prettily appointed little shop with a big soda-water plant at the front. To a white-coated boy who lounged upon the fount, Klinker spoke winged words, and the next moment Queed found himself drinking a foaming, tingling, hair-trigger concoction under orders to put it all down at a gulp.
They were seated upon a bench of oak and leather upholstery, with an enormous mirror reproducing their back views to all who cared to see. Klinker was chewing a tooth-pick; and either a tooth-pick lasted him a long time, or the number he made away with in a year was simply stupendous.
"Ever see a gymnasier, Doc?"
No; it seemed that the Doc had not.
"We got one here. There's a big spare room behind the shop. Kind of a store-room it was, and the Mercuries have fitted it up as a gymnasier and athletic club. Only they're dead ones and don't use it much no more. Got kind of a fall this afternoon, didn't you, Doc?"
"What makes you think that?"
"That eye you got. She'll be a beaut to-morrow—skin's broke too. A bit of nice raw beefsteak clapped on it right now would do the world and all for it."
"Oh, it is of no consequence—"