Joe had laid by his chauffeur's garb and looked even bigger and grimmer in flannels and sweater. "Ho you, Joe," cried the old man, scowling, "did ye bring me that 'bacca?" "S'posin' I didn't?" demanded Joe. "Then dang ye--twice!" "An' s'posin' I did?" "Then--give it 'ere!" "An' that's his gratitood, sir!" growled Joe, shaking his head and giving the packet into the old man's clutching fingers. "A unnat'ral old bag-o'-bones, that's what 'e is, sir!" "Bones!" croaked the Old Un viciously. "Bag-o'-bones am I? Yah--look at ye'self--pork, that's what you are, all run to pork an' blubber an' fat, Joe, me pore lad--" "Fat!" growled Joe. "Y' know I ain't fat; y' know I'm as good a man as ever I was--look at that, you old sarpent!" And he smote himself with mighty fist--a blow to fell an ox. "Fat, am I?" "As--lard!" nodded the old man, filling half an inch of blackened clay pipe with trembling fingers, "as a 'og--" "Now my crumbs--" began Joe fiercely. "You're flabby an' soft, me pore lad," grinned the old man. "Flabby as a babby an' soft as a woman an' fat as a--" Joe reached out very suddenly, and picking up the old man, armchair and all, shook him to and fro until he croaked for mercy. "Lor' gorramighty!" he panted, as Joe set him down again. "Fat, am I?" demanded Joe, scowling. "Fat as a 'og--fat as forty bloomin' 'ogs!" cried the old man vindictively. "An' what's more, your wind's all gone--you couldn't go five rounds wi' a good 'un!" "Couldn't I?" "No!" shrieked the Old Un, "you'd be 'anging on an' blowing like a grampus!" "Should I?" "Ah--like a grampus!" "Right-o!" nodded Joe, turning away, "no jam for _your_ tea to-night." "Eh, what--what, would ye rob a pore old man of 'is jam, Joe--a pore afflicted old cove as is dependent on ye 'and an' fut, Joe--a pore old gaffer as you've just shook up to that degree as 'is pore old liver is a-bobbin' about in 'is innards like a jelly. Joe, ye couldn't be so 'eartless!" "Ah, but I can!" nodded Joe. "An' if ye give me any more lip, it'll be no sugar in ye tea--" "No sugar!" wailed the Old Un, then clenching a trembling old fist, he shook it in Joe's scowling face. "Then dang ye--three times!" he cried. "What's the old song say? "'Dang the man with three times three Who in 'is 'eathen rage Can 'arm a 'armless man like me Who's 'ead is bowed wi' age!' "An' there's for ye. Now listen again: "'Some men is this an' some is that, But 'ere's a truth I know: A fightin' cove who's run to fat Is bound t' puff an' blow!' "An' there's for ye again!" Saying which, the Old Un nodded ferociously and proceeded to light his fragmentary pipe. During this colloquy Ravenslee had laid by his shabby clothes and now appeared clad and shod for the ring. "Sir," said Joe, taking a set of gloves from a locker, "if you are ready to box a round or so--" "Why, no," answered Ravenslee, "I don't want to box to-day, Joe." "Eh?" said Joe, staring, "not?" "I want to fight, Joe."