himself, he thought. But repetition
presently dulled the edge of comedy. On the fourth occasion of this
apparently unaccountable behavior on Skinner's part, the "cage man"
began to meditate the matter.

Would he have to do this dodging act every day, like a fugitive, he
wondered? It was dawning upon him that his shabby clothes had made him
a fugitive from respectability. By jingo! He sat up straight as he
realized for the first time that he was the only poorly dressed
commuter of whom Meadeville might boast. He had prided himself that
he'd never given a cuss what other people thought of his clothes, so
long as his bank account was intact. By Jove! Perhaps he'd never
known what they thought because they were too polite to tell him!

If he'd had no one but himself to consider, Skinner would have made the
plunge and bought a new business suit right away--even in the face of
what that might entail. And his experience with the dress suit had
taught him that every purchase was fraught with complex possibilities.
But how could he spring it on Honey--chief guardian of the bank account?

Honey, too, pondered Skinner's curious dash out and back, the first day
he did it. She had her suspicions, but said nothing. She simply
waited until the following morning to confirm them. And when the whole
combination of circumstances--Skinner's advance, Colby's car appearing
down the road, Skinner's retreat--was repeated, it was as plain as an
open book to the perspicacious little lady. Dearie was shabby, and for
the first time in his life he had realized the disadvantage of it. She
was secretly glad, for she had always felt that Dearie's thrift with
regard to clothes was misplaced. But she could never get him to see it
that way. The mere flashing by of Stephen Colby had done more for
Skinner in that particular than years of affectionate solicitude on her
part. "Really," she mused, "some men have to be blasted out of a rut
with dynamite!"

From recent experience, Honey deduced that Skinner would shy at any new
purchase, with its ramifying possibilities. Then how to prepare the
way? Honey was an arch diplomat--and--Honey was a great cook.

Honey met Skinner at the door the evening of the fourth day and gently
drew him into the dining-room.

"Look!" she cried, pointing to the table. "Oysters!--and
later--beefsteak! Think of it! Beefsteak!"

Skinner noted with some relief that it was the same formula she had
used on