Say, as a rule I ain't anxious to take on new people, and it's gettin' so lately that we turn away two or three a week; but it didn't take me long to make up my mind that I could find time for a session with Langdon, if he wanted it.
"Your maw says you do a little boxin'?" says I, smooth and soothin'.
"What of it?" says he.
"Well," says I, "down to my Studio we juggle the kid pillows once in awhile ourselves, when we ain't doin' the wand drill, or playin' bean bag."
"Huh!" says he once more.
For a parlour conversationalist, Langdon was a frost, and he has manners that would turn a subway guard green. But maw jumps in with enough buttered talk for both, and pretty soon she tells me that Langdon's perfectly delighted and will be down next day.
"Me and Mr. Gallagher'll be on the spot," says I. "Good evenin', ma'am."
At that Pembroke jumps up, makes a quick break away, and trails along too, so we does a promenade together down West End-ave.
"Charming young fellow, eh?" says Pembroke.
"Sure!" says I. "But he hides it well."