“I’m very hot and thirsty,” said the Hermit, flinging himself down on a chair.
“Yes, yes; but what about this bad club?”
“Call it not bad, Jupiter, for I am its president.”
“What! you its president!” cried the Captain, taking in the mystery at a bound. “You mean to say you’ve talked them over! By Jove! Freckleton, you ought to be Captain of Templeton.”
“Thank you; I’ve quite enough to do as president of the ‘Select Sociables.’”
And he then proceeded to give a modest history of the evening’s proceedings.
Mansfield was delighted at every particular.
“But suppose Bull had fought you,” said he, “where would you be now?”
“Better off, I think,” said the Hermit. “It would have told better if I could really have knocked him down. However, I fancy it’s as well it didn’t come to a brush.”
“But can you box, old man?”