," said Skippy gorgeously; which proved that if his
experience was limited he had certain intuitions to build upon.

When Skippy directly after supper bolted to his room and began to scrub
for the superlative toilette, after collecting a pair of kid gloves from
Butcher Stevens and a purple tie from Dennis de Brian de Boru, Snorky
Green was finally convinced that matters had reached a serious pass.

"I thought you were in New York," he said, remembering Skippy's previous
declaration.

"What? Oh yes!" Skippy, whose mind was not on consistency, hastily
caught himself. "Oh, Tina! She came down to meet me."

"What in the mischief are you up to now?"

"For the love of Pete don't bother me," said Skippy. "Tell you later.
Honest, Snorky, it's serious, and I'm in a devil of a hurry."

He struggled into his best pair of low blacks, and suddenly a new
perplexity arose. What would they look like after five miles tramp
through the fields and the dust? Yet if he openly pocketed a shoebrush
and cloth, how explain this to the ever-incredulous Snorky? The window
was open. He simulated a final polish and profiting by a favorable
moment tossed the brush and cloth out into the dark. Then he stationed
himself before the mirror for the final struggle to achieve a part.

"Looks like last year's toothbrush," said Dennis de Brian de Boru, via
the transom, his usual defensive position.

"Looks like the home rooster when the imported bantam has left," said
Snorky.

"Looks like a cat that's walked in the mucilage."

"That'll be quite enough," said Skippy, whose patience was evaporating.

"Vaseline'll do the trick," said Dennis softly.

Vaseline! Skippy seized upon the idea in desperation. But to his horror,
once the part was achieved, the slippery and sticky effect of the
flattened hair was horrifying.

"Where in Moses is that Irishman!" he cried, slamming open the door.

"Face powder will take the shine off," said Snorky, after an immersion
of the head in the washbasin had aggravated the catastrophe.

"My Lord, I've got to do something," said Skippy, almost in tears.
Snorky came to his rescue and between a vigorous rubbing with a bath
towel and a liberal sprinkling of talcum powder, an effect was finally
produced which at least was not shiny. Skippy, who had been glancing at
his watch every three minutes, ended his toilette in a whirl.

"How much money have you got?"

Snorky produced three quarters.

"I'll send it back to you