sort of in trainin', and Spider says smoke's bad for d' wind, and d'
Spider knows."

"Spider?" said Mr. Ravenslee, glancing up, "do you mean Spider Connolly
the lightweight?"

"That's d' guy!" nodded Spike.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"Sure! Him an' Bud M'Ginnis is goin' to get me some good matches soon."

"Boxing matches?"

"That's what they call 'em, Geoff--but there ain't much boxin' to it;
real boxin' don't go down wid d' sports, it's d' punch they wanter
see--good, stiff wallops as jars a guy an' makes his knees get
wobbly--swings and jolts as makes a guy blind an' deaf an' sick. Oh,
I been like that, an' I know--an' it ain't all candy t' hear everybody
yellin' to the other guy to go in an' finish ye!"

"Does your sister know you fight?"

"Not much, she don't! I guess she'd like me to be a mommer's pet in lace
collars an' a velvet suit, an' soft an' pretty in me talk. She's made
me promise t' cut out d' tough-spiel, an' so I'm tryin' to--"

"Are you really, Spike?"

"Well--when she's around I do, Geoff!"