"Oh, Gorramighty!" he panted, halting suddenly on the fifth landing to
get his breath, "these perishin' stairs 'as ketched my wind, Joe; it's
worse 'n th' treadmill! Is there many more of 'em?"
"Only six flights!" nodded Joe grimly.
"Six!" wailed the Old Un. "Lord--it'll be the death o' me!"
"Well, it's about time you was dead," nodded Joe.
"Dead ye'self!" snarled the old man. "I'm a better figger of a man than
ever you was--"
"An' you would come," continued Joe serenely, as he deftly resettled the
old fellow's sporty bow-tie. "You fair plagued me to bring ye along,
didn't ye, old packet o' vindictiveness?"
"Well, an' here I am, Joe, an' here I mean t' stay--no more climbin' fer
me; I'm tired, me lad, tired!" Saying which, the Old Un spread his
handkerchief on a convenient stair and proceeded to seat himself thereon
with due regard for his immaculately creased trousers.
"Well," growled Joe, "of all the perverse old raspers that ever I did
see--"
"That's enough, Joe, that's enough!" exclaimed the Old Un, fanning
himself with his rakish hat.
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