ld you I was afraid of worms," he
said after a pause.

"He has n't begun to turn yet."

"How do you know? Hang it! A worm is always turning. There's no
telling when he begins. He crawls in curves."

"Oh, rats!" was Perkins's only comment.

"Rats, eh? Skinner asked for a raise, did n't he? He did n't get it,
did he? Right on top of it he comes out in gay attire--both of 'em!
You ought to have seen 'em, Perk. No hand-me-down! The real thing!"
McLaughlin paused longer than usual. He looked troubled. "Say, Perk,"
he said presently, "somehow, I'm afraid this particular worm of ours is
pluming for flight."

"That's a dainty metaphor, Mac, but it's a little mixed."

McLaughlin glared at Perkins. He hated these petty corrections.

"Ain't a caterpillar a worm, my Harvard prodigy?"

"I grant you that."

"Don't he turn into a butterfly? Don't he plume for flight?"

McLaughlin nailed each successive argument with a bang of his fist on
the desk.

"Ain't Skinner getting to be a social butterfly? Get the connection?
My metaphor may be mixed, as you say,--which I don't understand,--but
my logic is O.K. Say, ain't it?"

"Your metaphor, Mac, suggests a picture. Imagine Skinner with wings
on--those long legs drooping down or trailing behind him--like a great
Jersey mosquito!"

At which they both laughed.

"Well," said McLaughlin, resignedly turning to the papers on his desk,
"it beats me, that's all!"

Skinner had accurately reckoned that McLaughlin's wife would repeat
Honey's cryptic remarks to the boss, and so, next day, he felt a
natural constraint when in the presence of the senior partner.
Constraint in the one reacted upon and caused constraint in the other,
until it looked as if McLaughlin and Skinner, who had once been quite
sociable as boss and clerk, would be little more than speaking
acquaintances, after a time.

At any rate, that night Skinner jotted down:--

_Dress-Suit Account_

_Debit_ _Credit_

A certain constraint on the
part of McLaughlin.

"Have _you_ noticed anything in Skinner's conduct, Perk?" said
McLaughlin, two days later.

"You're getting morbid about Skinner, Mac."

"No, I ain't, either. But he acts--somehow, I can't get it out of my
head that his wife meant--you know what!"

"You think Skinner told her we raised him?"

"That's it!"

"Suppose he did," said Perkins; "what of it?"

"How could he square