"Get those paste cans outside! Step lively there!"

"Say, you talk to me as if I were one of the hired help,"
objected Teddy, his face flushing.

"Well, that is exactly what you are. You'll soon learn that you
are hired help if you remain on this car. I'll take all the
freshness out of you. The flour is in the cellar."

"In the cellar?"

"That's what I said. Go down and get it out. You will require
about a sack and a half for each can. That will be about right
for a can of paste. Henry will show you how much bluestone to
put in. But be careful of that boiler. I don't want the car
blown up."

The manager strode away to his office, while Teddy, red and
perspiring, went about his work. He was much more meek than
usual, and this very fact, had the manager known him better,
would have impressed Mr. Snowden as a suspicious circumstance.

Instead of the usual pink tights with spangled trunks, Teddy
Tucker was now clad in a pair of blue jeans, held up by pieces of
string reaching up over his shoulders. His was now a far
different figure from that presented by him in the ring of the
Sparling Shows.

After dumping the flour into the cans, in doing which Teddy took
his time, he attached a hose pipe to the boiler, under the