s
dressmaker and get a gown to correspond with it. To correspond with my
patent leathers, you get evening shoes at a first-class bootmaker's.
To correspond with my overcoat, you get an evening cloak. Piece for
piece, you must do just as I do. We'll be a symphony in clothes! Silk
stockings, long gloves, silk underwear, and all the rest of it--that's
what you're going to have!"

"But silk underwear? No one can see it, Dearie," Honey protested.

"There's a psychology to it, remember. I want you to _feel_ well
dressed."

Honey's face went white.

"Have you any idea what these things will cost?"

"No!--and I don't care!" Skinner burst out. "It's all on me! _I_ got
the raise, did n't I? You did n't, did you? Very well, _I'll_ take
the consequences--and be damned to 'em!"

Then Skinner swung around and shook his finger at Honey.

"And I want you to understand, we're going to _ride_ to that
reception--in a cab! For one night in his life Skinner will not be a
walk-in-the-slush man!"

CHAPTER IV

SKINNER'S DRESS SUIT BEGINS TO GET IN ITS FINE WORK

Meadeville was a suburb once removed--a kind of second cousin to the
big city--the only kind of a suburb that could really be aristocratic.
Meadeville was populated considerably by moneyed New Yorkers and the
First Presbyterian was the smartest church in town. The men who passed
the plate all belonged to the millionaire class.

But no church congregation was ever made up entirely of aristocrats.
It needs a generous sprinkling of the poor and the moderately
well-to-do to keep up the spiritual average. This was the case with
the First Presbyterian. Its gatherings were eminently democratic. It
was the only occasion when the "upper ten" felt that they could mix
with the other "hundreds" without any letting-down of the bars. The
ultra-fashionable rarely attended the church gatherings. But this was
a special occasion. A new pastor was to be introduced. So, prompted
by curiosity and a desire to make a good impression on the future
custodian of their morals, the smart set attended in full force.

Skinner knew every one of the smart set by sight. But the smart set
did n't know Skinner, for he was only a clerk, and no clerk ever had
individuality enough to stamp himself on the memory of a plutocrat.

There were a large number of clerks present, fellow commuters, and
Skinner noticed with some embarrassment that a considerable number of
these gentlemen we