she explains. "He's a shipping clerk by day and "One-Round Stillwell,' or some such horrible person, by night at those awful clubs. Jimmy loves me, and ordinarily I can do anything with him—there's just the two of us, you know—but he is determined to be a prize fighter. Oh, I wish I could ask you—to—to—see him, Mister Halliday, and speak to him as you did to me," she winds up earnestly. "He's such a young boy and—"
"We'll both talk with him, Miss Stillwell," butts in the Kid, as she hesitates. "And I think I know of a perfectly harmless way of showing your brother what a little chump he is to throw away his best years in the prize ring. I'll be glad to help." He turns to me. "Find out where the boy is fighting, old man," he says, "and bring him over to see me. If arguments fail, I think he would be glad of a chance to make himself useful around the gym. We can even intimate to him that he's part of my—er—camp, and I think," he winds up, turnin' back to Joan, "I think that about a week of the hard and thankless work will cure him quicker than anything any of us might tell him. Want to try it?"
"I think you are perfectly splendid—thanks awfully!" says Joan, throwin' her smile into high. "You can find him at nights around the Aldine Athletic Club here. Most any of the men can point him out to you—in fact, he already has quite a swarm of admirers. And now I won't bother you any longer; good-bye and thanks, both of you, for everything!"
Gee, but that room looked empty after she'd went!
