“Yes, you do!” growled Small, mollified nevertheless.
“I do, honest! Cross my heart, Small! I think it’s a dandy drawing. Wish I could draw like that.”
Small viewed him suspiciously, but Kid’s cherubic countenance seemed without guile. Small, much flattered and highly pleased, stammered that it wasn’t much and that he could show Kid how to do it if he, Kid, wanted him to. Kid thanked him and promised to give the matter thought. Then,
“Say, you’ve got a cough, haven’t you?” he said.
Small looked surprised. “Who? Me? No, I haven’t any cough.”
“Then what are you coughing for?” demanded Kid.
“I’m not! I haven’t coughed all winter.”
“Oh! Then I suppose I imagined it. You want to be careful of a cough this time of year. First thing you know you’ll have tonsilitis or—or pneumonia or something.”
Small looked concerned and promptly coughed. The cough surprised him and when Kid kindly thumped him on the back and asked where it hurt him, Small went into a regular paroxysm of coughing that left him crimson-faced and alarmed.
“Gee,” he exclaimed, when he could get his breath, “I didn’t know I had any cough! Funny how things kind of—kind of creep up on you, ain’t it?”