?"

"No, I'm only making a call," replied I, taking alarm instantly.

"Oh, is _that_ all?" said he with a sly grin. "It must be a mighty
serious matter."

"I'm in no hurry," said I. "Come up with me for a few minutes."

As soon as we were alone in my sitting-room, I demanded: "What's wrong with
me?"

"Nothing--not a thing," was his answer, in a tone I had a struggle with
myself not to resent. "I've never seen any one quite so grand--top
hat, latest style, long coat ditto, white buckskin waistcoat,
twenty-thousand-dollar pearl in pale blue scarf, white spats, spotless
varnish boots just from the varnishers, cream-colored gloves. You
_will_ make a hit! My eye, I'll bet she won't be able to resist you."

I began to shed my plumage. "I thought this was the thing when you're
calling on people you hardly know."

"I should say you'd have to know 'em uncommon well to give 'em such a
treat. Rather!"

"What shall I wear?" I asked. "You certainly told me the other day that
this was proper."

"Proper--so it is--too damn proper," was his answer. "That'd be all right
for a bridegroom or a best man or an usher--or perhaps for a wedding guest.
It wouldn't do any particular harm even to call in it, if the people were
used to you. But--"

"I look dressed up?"

"Like a fashion plate--like a tailor--like a society actor."

"What shall I wear?"

"Oh, just throw yourself together any old way. Business suit's good
enough."

"But I barely know these people--socially. I never called there," I
objected.

"Then don't call," he advised. "Send your valet in a cab to leave a card
at the door. Calling has gone clean out--unless a man's got something very
especial in mind. Never show that you're eager. Keep your hand hid."

"They'd know I had something especial in mind if I called?"

"Certainly, and if you'd gone in those togs, they'd have assumed you had
come to--to ask the old man for his daughter--or something like that."

I lost no time in getting back into a business suit.

A week passed and, just as I was within sight of my limit of patience,
Bromwell Ellersly appeared at my office. "I can't put my hand on the
necessary cash, Mr. Blacklock--at least, not for a few days. Can I count
on your further indulgence?" This in his best exhibit of old-fashioned
courtliness--the "gentleman" through and through, ignorant of anything
useful.

"Don't let that matter worry you, Ellersly," said I, friendly, for I wanted
to be on a som