bed and looked at the collar
he had worn the day before, and frowned at it as he saw that it was
not quite immaculate. Then he listened closely for any sound in the
house that would tell him Mr. or Mrs. Fenelby were up. He heard
nothing. He hastily slipped on his clothes, and tip-toed out of the
room and down the stairs. This tariff for revenue only was well
enough for Thomas and Laura, and assessing a duty of ten per cent.
on everything that came into the house (and thirty per cent. on
luxuries) might fill up Bobberts' bank, and provide that baby with
an education fund, but it was an injustice to bachelor uncles when
there was an unmarried girl in the house. If this Kitty girl was
willing to so forget what was due to a young man as to appear in one
dress the whole time of her stay, that was her look-out, but for his
part he did not intend to lower his dignity by going down to
breakfast in a soiled collar. If creeping down to the porch in his
stockings, and bringing in that collar surreptitiously, was
smuggling, then--

Billy stopped short at the screen door. From there he could see the
spot on the railing where he had put the collar, and the collar was
not there! No doubt it had fallen to the lawn. He opened the screen
door carefully and stepped outside. The early morning air was cool
and sweet, and an ineffable quiet rested on the suburb. He tip-toed
gently across the porch and down the porch steps, and hobbled
carefully across the painful pebble walk and stepped upon the lawn.
There was dew on the lawn. The lawn was soaked and saturated and
steeped in dew. It bathed his feet in chilliness, as if he had
stepped into a pail of ice water, and the vines that clambered up
the porch-side were dewy too. As he kneeled on the grass and pawed
among the vines, seeking the missing collar, the vines showered down
the crystal drops upon him, and soaked his sleeves, and added a
finishing touch of ruin to the collar he was wearing. The other
collar was not there! It was not among the vines, it was not on the
lawn, it was not on the porch, and soaked in socks and sleeves he
retreated. He paused a minute on the porch to glance thoughtfully at
the moist foot-prints his feet left on the boards, and wondered if
they would be dry before Tom or Laura came down. At any rate there
was no help for it now, and he went up the stairs again.

The most uncomfortable small discomfort is wet socks, whether they
come from a small hole in the bott