"Now, stop just a minute and think," he said. "I like your spirit, and yours, too, kid," he added, gazing up at the tonneau from which the younger Wellington was glaring down like a bellicose young tiger, "but this won't go at all. Now wait," as Ronald tried to brush past. "In the first place, if your mother hears you have been smoking in the garage--or anywhere else--you 'll get into trouble with her, so Ryan has told me. And I don't believe that's any fun. . . . Now--listen, will you? I am employed here as physical instructor for you chaps, not as a chauffeur--although your sister has been good enough to press me into service for a day or two--and I imagine I 'm going to draw pay for making you into something else than thin-chested cigarette fiends. I can do it, if you 'll help. How about it?" he said, smiling at Ronald. "Will you be friends?" Ronald, who had worked out of his passion, sniffed. "Thank you, I had rather not, if you don't mind. I think you will find that you don't like your place." "Well," said Armitage affably, "then I can leave, you know." "Yes, you can, all right; it 'll be sooner than you think. Come on, Muck," and the older brother turned and left the garage. Muck, who for the past few seconds had been gazing at Armitage with wide eyes, slipped down from the car and stood in front of him. "Say," he exclaimed, "you 're the fellow I gave that note to in church--the one from my sister--are n't you?" He grinned as Armitage looked at him dumbly. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I shan't tell. Sister gave me a five-dollar gold piece. I thought you did n't act like a chauffeur. Say, show me that grip you got on Ronie, will you? He has been too fresh lately,--I want to spring it on him. Can I learn it?" "Not that one." Armitage took the boy's hand, his thumb pressing back of the second knuckle, his fingers on the palm. He twisted backward and upward gently. "There 's one that's better, though, and easier. See? Not that way," as the boy seized his hand. "Press here. That's right. Now you 've got it. You can make your brother eat out of your hand." "Thanks!" Muck left beaming, searching for his disgruntled brother--and Armitage had made a friend. A minute later Royal, or Muck, as his nickname seemed to be, thrust his head into the garage. "You 're not going to say anything to mother about the cigarettes, are you?" "That's the best guess you ever made," smiled Armitage. "You and I 'll settle that, won't we?" "Rather," replied the boy, who departed with a nod. "Well, you 've done it," said Ryan, gazing at Armitage admiringly. "Master Ronald will raise hell!" Armitage shook his head. "I don't care, I just had to devil that rooster. He was insufferable. I--" The telephone bell rang, and Ryan, with a significant I-told-you-so grimace took up the receiver. A second later a smile of relief lighted his face. "Very well. Thank you, sir," he said, and turned to Armitage.