ently quoted to the growing youth
about me. I realised instantly that to be seen in the apparent act of
leaving or entering the establishment of a tobacconist would, in a
sense, be compromising; so I retreated to the sidewalk just as Mr.
Pottinger and the Misses Pottinger arrived at that precise point.

In the gloaming I fain would have passed them with dignified yet hurried
movement; but they put themselves directly in my path, and as
recognition was now inevitable, I halted, removing my cap with my right
hand while with my left I continued, as I had been doing ever since
leaving my lodgings, to retain a firm grasp on my waistline.

"Good evening!" I said. "Is it not a pleasant evening since the cool of
evening set in? Good evening! Good-bye!" And so I would have continued
on my way.

Mr. Pottinger somehow barred the way. I heard Miss Mildred Pottinger
give voice to a species of gasp, while Miss Mabel, the younger sister, a
young girl and much addicted, I fear, to levity, began uttering a
gurgling, choking sound that somewhat to my subconscious annoyance
continued unabated during the interview which followed.

"Good evening!" said Mr. Pottinger, clearing his throat. "I beg your
pardon, Doctor Fibble, but may I ask--Mabel, please be quiet!--may I ask
whether you are going to a fancy-dress party somewhere?"

"By no means," I replied. "I am en route, sir, to attend a special or
called meeting of our newly formed boys' outing club. These are the
habiliments designed for club use."

"Oh!" he said. "Oh, I see! Mabel, child, kindly restrain yourself. Don't
you see Doctor Fibble and I are talking? Ahem! And is any one besides
yourself going to wear this--er--er--regalia in public?"

Having no sons of his own, Mr. Pottinger naturally would be unacquainted
with the aims and objects of my present activities. Therefore I could
well understand his ignorance.

"Oh, yes, indeed," was my answer; "all of our members are to wear it."

"What will you bet?" Such was his astonishing rejoinder--I say
astonishing, because nothing had been said regarding a wager and
certainly nothing had been farther from my own thoughts.

"What will I bet?" I echoed, for the instant nonplussed. Then
consciousness of what I had just said came to me with a shock. Releasing
my waistband I clasped both my hands before me in an attitude to which I
am much given when desirous of signifying unwonted intensity of
feeling. "Mr. Pottinger," I said gravely,