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The Little Nugget by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 90 of 331 (27%)
'You talk a lot. What do you reckon you're going to do?'

I eyed him thoughtfully.

'Well, everything's got to have a beginning,' I said. 'What you
seem to me to want most is exercise. I'll take you for a run every
day. You won't know yourself at the end of a week.'

'Say, if you think you're going to get _me_ to run--'

'When I grab your little hand, and start running, you'll find
you'll soon be running too. And, years hence, when you win the
Marathon at the Olympic Games, you'll come to me with tears in
your eyes, and you'll say--'

'Oh, slush!'

'I shouldn't wonder.' I looked at my watch. 'Meanwhile, you had
better go to bed. It's past your proper time.'

He stared at me in open-eyed amazement.

'Bed!'

'Bed.'

He seemed more amused than annoyed.

'Say, what time do you think I usually go to bed?'

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