he won't lend
Mr. Roberts his dress-coat. Tell him Mrs. Roberts has gone off to a
party, and Mr. Roberts doesn't know where to find his coat."

_Roberts:_ "Oh, do you think she'd better tell him that, Willis?"

_Campbell:_ "Why, certainly! You must account for the request in some
way. It'll appeal to his sympathy, and put him into a good-humor if he
happens to have to get out of bed to oblige you."

_Bella:_ "They're all up yet, sir. I saw their cook on the back stairs
when I came in. They've been giving a dinner--"

_Campbell:_ "Well, run then." To Roberts, as Bella vanishes: "Merrick
can take it right off his back. But whilst she's gone we'll just give
this lock another chance." They work jointly at the bureau drawer. "No,
it won't scrape down. It's probably rusted in. You must get this lock
oiled, Roberts." As Bella returns with a dress-coat in her hand: "Ah,
here we are! That's very nice of Merrick. What did he say?"

_Bella:_ "I didn't see him, sir. The girl brought it."

_Campbell:_ "Well, that's all, Bella." He shakes out the coat as she
goes, and looks down at it. "I suppose it amused Merrick. He's got a
good deal of humor, Merrick has. I hope he won't give it to the press."

_Roberts:_ "Good heavens, Willis! You don't--"

_Campbell:_ "Oh, he wouldn't give real names. Merrick's too much of a
gentleman for that. Come, try it on. We've got to hurry, now." Roberts
backs towards him with extended arms and Campbell slips the coat-sleeves
on them. "Easy, easy! It may be a little narrow for you in the back--No,
sir! It fits you like a glove." He stands off and surveys Roberts, after
smoothing the coat across the shoulders. "Yes, sir, like a glove--a
glove that the pretty shop-girl has put on for you, after she's peppered
it full of that white stuff to make it go on, and told you that you
could easily wear a size smaller." He begins to laugh as he lifts each
of Roberts's limp arms, with the sleeves dangling below his hands, and
touches the skirt, which descends to the calf of his leg. "The most
youthful figure I ever saw! Looks like a boy in his father's coat.
Merrick _is_ a tall fellow. I'd no idea--"

_Roberts_, looking ruefully over his shoulder: "You see it won't do,
Willis."

_Campbell:_ "No, no! I don't say that, quite. But perhaps we'd better
try something else. Who's overhead now?"

_Roberts_, desperately: "Baker. And he's short and fat--"

_Campbell:_ "Short and fat isn't at all bad." Touching the