“This one had a funny ear and short hair and he said, ‘You don’t know me, miss. But I seen you workin’-out at Andy’s. My name’s Gillig. You done a good turn for my kid sister once and I ain’t forgot it.’ So I said, ‘How do you do, Mr. Gillig. I can’t introduce you to this other gentleman because he helped himself to this chair without mentioning his name.’ ‘That kind does,’ Mr. Gillig said. ‘He’d better take a run.’ My pinky-brown caller didn’t seem to take to the suggestion. ‘Maybe so; maybe not,’ he said. ‘I belong to the Bouncers’ Union, myself.’ Then Mr. Gillig looked at him hard and said, ‘I’m Spike Gillig, the welter-weight. I don’t practice me art for me health’—Yes, he did, Gloria; he spoke of it as his art!—‘And I ain’t strong for scrappin’ out of business hours,’ he said. ‘But I ain’t goin’ to sit by and see any rough stuff pulled on this young lady.’ ‘Whad-dye mean, rough stuff?’ said the other man, quite dignified and injured. ‘Lemme tell you, I’m as much a gent as you are. And I ain’t duckin’ any muss, professional or amachure. My weight is a hundred-and-eighty, stripped, beggin’ Miss Peach’s pardon, and if you wanta know who I am, I’m Scrap Gilfillan, shortstop of the Marvels, comin’ champions of the world. But if you say this lady is a friend of yours—’ “For some reason, Gloria, that seemed to make Mr. Gillig awfully angry. He got purple clear to his ears, and growled, ‘She ain’t no friend of mine. See? This is a lady, this is.’ ‘I gotcha,’ the shortstop man said. He turned to me. ‘Am I in wrong, miss? Was you ever to this joint before?’ ‘Never,’ I told him. ‘Apologies all round,’ he said, quite handsomely. ‘And if no offense is taken where none’s meant, would the two of you kindly have one little one with me just to prove it?” “Lovely!” cried the entranced Gloria. “What did you do? This is important. Oh, this is most awfully important!” “Do?” rippled the girl. “I took sarsaparilla.” “Darcy Cole, formerly Amanda Darcy Cole,” said Gloria solemnly. “Come to my arms. I hereby declare you a full Fellow of the Institute of Life, free of its brotherhood, equipped to come and go in all its ways unafraid and unembarrassed by any complication. Blessed are those who are not too meek, for they shall take their own share of the earth without waiting forever to inherit it. Go forth and take yours. You’ll like it.” “I love it! And I’m not afraid of it any more.” “It’d better be afraid of you,” commented Gloria, regarding the vivid, youth-flushed creature before her. “Wait till I get you dressed up to your looks! Are you ready to gird on your armor for the campaign?” “I’m dying with impatience!” “We’ll have a taxi by the hour and go forth to wallow in clothing. Oh, my blessed young protégée, but you’re going to make some trouble for this neglectful old world of ours before you wither, or I miss my guess.” “I shan’t,” returned the girl demurely, but with dancing eyes, “unless it calls me ‘Poor Darcy.’” CHAPTER IX