the kick of a mule, Per--"

"Cut that!"

"P.S., I mean," George amended hastily. "Why didn't you ever tell me
you was Jeffries's sparrin' partner?"

"I'm not and never was, and furthermore I didn't hit you," replied P.
Sybarite. "All I did was to let you fall over my foot and bump your
head on the floor. You're a clumsy brute, you know, George, and if you
tried it another time you _might_ dent that dome of yours. Better
accept my offer and be friends."

"Never call you Per--"

"Don't say it!"

"Oh, all right--all right," George agreed plaintively. "And if I
promise, I'm in on that theatre party?"

"That's my offer."

"It's hard," George sighed regretfully--"damn' hard. But whatever
_you_ say goes. I'll keep your secret."

"Good!" P. Sybarite extended one of his small, delicately modelled
hands. "Shake," said he, smiling wistfully.