"After being hit?" interrupted Mr. Billing.

"After being hit," assented the other, "they'll be ashamed of themselves,
and it'll hurt them more than if you struck them."

"Let's 'ope so," said the convert; "but it don't sound reasonable. I can
hit a man pretty 'ard. Not that I'm bad-tempered, mind you; a bit quick,
p'r'aps. And, after all, a good smack in the jaw saves any amount of
argufying."

Mr. Purnip smiled, and, as they walked along, painted a glowing picture
of the influence to be wielded by a first-class fighting-man who refused
to fight. It was a rough neighbourhood, and he recognized with sorrow
that more respect was paid to a heavy fist than to a noble intellect or a
loving heart.

"And you combine them all," he said, patting his companion's arm.

Mr. Billing smiled. "You ought to know best," he said, modestly.

"You'll be surprised to find how easy it is," continued Mr. Purnip. "You
will go from strength to strength. Old habits will disappear, and you
will hardly know you have lost them. In a few months' time you will
probably be wondering what you could ever have seen in beer, for
example."

"I thought you said you didn't want me to give up beer?" said the other.

"We don't," said Mr. Purnip. "I mean that as you grow in stature you