"I just knew you didn't like rough games," says she. "You don't look as though you would, you know."
"That's right," say I.
"Jarvis says that once you knocked out three men in one evening; but I'm sure you weren't rude about it," she gurgles.
"And that's no pipe, either," says I. "I wouldn't be rude for money."
"What is a knockout, anyway?" says she.
"Why," says I, "it's just pushin' a feller around the platform until he's too dizzy to stand up."
"What fun!" says sister.
We makes a break for the dressin'-room about then, and the delegation clears out. On the way back to the station Jarvis apologizes seven different ways, and ends up by givin' me the cue to the whole game.
Seems that mother's steady job in life was to get him married off to some one that suited her for a daughter-in-law. She'd been at it for five or six years; but Jarvis had always blocked her moves, until Lady Evelyn shows up. I guessed that he'd picked her out himself, and was gettin' along fine, when mother begins to mix in and arrange things. Evelyn shies at that, and commences to hand Jarvis the frappéd smile. This little visit to the sparrin' exhibition the old lady had planned for Evelyn's special benefit.
"But hang it all!" says Jarvis, "I couldn't stand up there and show off, like a Sunday-school boy spouting a piece. Made me feel like a silly ass, you know."