ed him cordially, McLaughlin seemed a
changed man. His eyes were genial, and even his hair was conciliatory.
And social intercourse had done that! "Gee whiz!" said Skinner to
himself.

And Honey! Skinner took a brand-new pride in her. She was radiantly
happy, radiantly beautiful in a gown designed by a clever dress-builder
to exploit every one of her charms. She was blooming like a rose whose
bloom had been arrested by the sordid things of life. Honey had been
"taken up." She was now the very center of a group of some of the
"best" people there. By Jove, McLaughlin's wife had thrust her arm
through Honey's and was leading her off to another group. As he
watched her, Skinner felt that even sin--when undertaken for
another--has its compensations!

"Who is that very distinguished man over there?" said Mrs. J. Smith
Crawford, the wife of the senior deacon of the First Presbyterian.

Miss Mayhew adjusted her lorgnette. "_What_ very distinguished man?"

"There's only one," replied Mrs. Crawford. "The man over there who
looks like a cross between a poet and an athlete."

"Oh, that's Skinner, of McLaughlin & Perkins, Inc. The Skinners are
great friends of ours."

As a matter of fact, Miss Mayhew had never taken the trouble to notice
the Skinners, but now that Skinner had made an impression on the
exclusive Mrs. Crawford, that altered the case.

"I'm glad," said Mrs. Crawford. "Go get him."

Skinner found Mrs. Crawford most engaging. She was neither haughty nor
full of the pedantry with which social leaders try to disabuse the mind
of the ordinary citizen that the rich must necessarily be dubs. Twenty
minutes later, Deacon Crawford came up and Skinner was presented.

"I'm mighty glad to know you, Mr. Skinner," said the deacon. "Some
views I heard you expressing just now were quite in accord with my own."

Skinner left the Crawfords presently with his head in the clouds. But
he was brought down to earth by some one plucking him by the sleeve.

"Gee, Skinner, where did you get it?" said Allison, who stood there in
a sack suit, grinning.

"Like it?" said Skinner, pleased.

"You bet! It's a Jim Lulu!"

"My wife made me get it," said Skinner, winking at Allison.

"Well, I hope you'll continue to recognize us," said Allison--and
Skinner again felt the touch of envy, but he did n't like it, for
Skinner was no snob.

As Skinner and Honey were departing, Lewis touched him on the arm.
"We'll drop you