“Oh, Jimmy will want to see you for a moment after his bath.  We’ll say good-by then.”

“Yes, I should like to see him,” said Dion, and went off to the dressing cubicles.

When he returned ready for the fray, with his arms bared to the shoulder, he found Jimmy, in trousers and an Eton jacket, with still damp hair sleeked down on his head, waiting with his mother, but not to say good-by.

“We aren’t going,” he announced, in a voice almost shrill with excitement, as Dion came into the gymnasium.  “The mater was all for a trot home, but Jenkins wishes me to stay.  He says it’ll be a good lesson for me.  I mean to be a boxer.”

“Why not?” observed the great voice of Jenkins.  “It’s the best sport in the world bar none.”

“There!” said Jimmy.  “And if I can’t be anything else I’ll be a bantam, that’s what I’ll be.”

“Oh, you’ll grow, sir, no doubt.  We may see you among the heavy-weights yet.”

“What’s Mr. Leith?  Is he a heavy-weight?” vociferated Jimmy.  “Just look at his arms.”

“You’ll see him use them in a minute,” observed Jenkins, covering Dion with a glance of almost grim approval, “and then you can judge for yourself.”

“You can referee us, Jimmy,” said Dion, smiling, as he pulled on the gloves.

“I say, by Jove, though!” said Jimmy, looking suddenly overwhelmed and very respectful.

He shook his head and blushed, then abruptly grinned.

“The mater had better do that.”

They all laughed except Mrs. Clarke.  Even Jenkins unbent, and his bass “Ha ha!” rang through the large vaulted room.  Mrs. Clarke smiled faintly, scarcely changing the expression of her eyes.  She looked unusually intent and, when the smile was gone, more than usually grave.

“I hope you don’t mind our staying just for a few minutes,” she said to Dion.  “You see what he is!”

She looked at her boy, but not with deprecation.

“Of course not, but I’m afraid it will bore you.”

“Oh no, it won’t.  I like to see skill of any kind.”

She glanced at his arms.

“I’ll get out of your way.  Come, Jimmy!”

She took him by the arm and went back to the hard chair, while Dion and Jenkins in the middle of the floor stood up opposite to one another.

“Have you got a watch, Master Jimmy?” said Jenkins, looking over his shoulder at his pupil.

“Rather!” piped Jimmy.

“Well, then, you’d better time us if you don’t referee us.”

Jimmy sprang away from his mother.

“Keep out of our road, or you may chance to get a kidney punch that’ll wind you.  Better stand here.  That’s it.  Three-minute rounds.  Keep your eye on the watch.”

“Am I to say ’Go’?” almost whispered Jimmy, tense with a fearful importance such as Caesar and Napoleon never felt.

“Who else?  You don’t expect us to order ourselves about, do you?”