“Fairly.”
“Yah wouldn’t wanta quit it, I guess,” surmised the trainer.
“For what?” asked the Wondering Darcy.
“Yah see,” explained Andy, nonchalantly juggling a medicine-ball the while, “since the tight skirt come in I’m getting a lot of ladies to train down to their skirts. More’n I can really handle right. Now, I kinda thought if you’d come in as assistant—well, yah can name yahr own terms, Miss Darcy.”
The girl looked at him with bright and affectionate eyes. “Andy, you’re a dear. That’s the nicest thing that ever happened to me.”
“It ain’t a proposition I’d make to everybody, I can tell yah,” averred the professional. “In fact, I dunno as there’s any one else I’d make it to but you. Except Miss Greene,” he added loyally.
“I’m awfully sorry, Andy. But I couldn’t very well drop my other work.”
“No?” sighed Andy. “Well, I s’pose not. Well,” he added, palliating the blow to his hopes, “yah’ll be gettin’ married one of these days, and then it’d be all off, anyhow.”
“Married!” laughed his pupil. “Who’d marry a plain little stick like me in a city full of pretty girls?”
“Go-wan!” retorted the other. Regarding her candid face, he perceived that this was no bluff. “Go-wan!” he repeated fervidly. “Get onto yahrself. Ain’t yah got a mirrah in the house?”