... If he had
begun systematic exercise ten years ago, probably he could thrash Mr.
Pat to-day.
Yet an hour a day is not pried out of a sacred schedule of work without
pains and anguish, and it was with a grim face that the Doc turned back
to William Klinker.
"Very well, Mr. Klinker, I will agree to make the experiment,
tentatively--an hour a day for thirty days only."
"Right for you, Doc! You'll never be sorry--take it from me."
Klinker was a brisk, efficient young man. The old gang that had fitted
out the gymnasium had drifted away, and the thought of going once more
into regular training, with a pupil all his own, was breath to his
nostrils. He assumed charge of the ceded hour with skilled sureness.
Rain or shine, the Doctor was to take half an hour's hard walking in the
air every day, over and above the walk to the office. Every afternoon at
six--at which hour the managerial duties at Stark's terminated--he was
to report in the gym for half an hour's vigorous work on the apparatus.
This iron-clad regime was to go into effect on the morrow.
"I'll look at you stripped," said Klinker, eyeing his new pupil
thoughtfully, "and see first what you need.
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