"Box?" Orde laughed. "Never had time for that sort of thing. Had
the gloves on a few times."
"Where did you get your training, sir?" asked the handler.
"My training?" repeated Orde, puzzled. "Oh, I see! I was always
pretty heavy, and I suppose the work on the river keeps a man in
pretty good shape."
Gerald's languor had vanished, and a glint had appeared in his eye
that would have reminded Orde of Miss Bishop's most mischievous mood
could he have seen it.
"Put on the gloves with Murphy," he suggested, "will you? I'd like
to see you two at it."
"Surely," agreed Orde good-naturedly. "I'm not much good at it, but
I'd just as soon try." He was evidently not in the least afraid to
meet the handler, though as evidently without much confidence in his
own skill.
"All right; I'll be with you in a second," said Gerald,
disappearing. In the anteroom he rung a bell, and to the boy who
leisurely answered its summons he said rapidly:
"Run over to the club and find Mr. Winslow, Mr. Clark, and whoever
else is in the smoking room, and tell them from me to cone over to
the gymnasium. Tell them there's some fun on."
Then he returned to the gymnasium floor, where Murphy was answering
Orde's questions as to the apparatus.
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