"Yes," returned Frank, "it might have been both eyes."
"It's a better combination," laughed David, "to have one blue one and one black one; kind of gives variety to your features."
There was a knock at the door, and the Wee One strolled into the room.
"Hello, pugilists," he said to Frank and Jimmy. "Understand you are both matched for the heavyweight class. Can't I come in on the scrapping somewhere?"
"You aren't even in the featherweight class," said Gleason.
"What would you call me then?"
"O, I think about the postage-stamp class."
"Well," retorted the Wee One, "I'd be a good postage stamp, for I don't remember that I've been licked yet."
"Old, very old," said Gleason. "I think I have the record of that here," and he pretended to search through his notebook. "Yes, here it is—'postage-stamp joke, first to be taken in out of the wet by Noah's secretary, who had the job of collecting all the old jokes. Said to have first been uttered by Adam.'"
"Well, it's a good easy joke to understand; it isn't like the ones you get off, Gleason. Yours need a chart with them," retorted the Wee One.