highway of sparkling jewels led across the waves to
the distant faintly green hills of Staten Island. Three tiny aeroplanes
wove invisible threads against the blue woof of the sky above the New
Jersey shore. It was not a day to practise law at all. It was a day to
lie on one's back in the grass and watch the clouds or throw one's
weight against the tugging helm of a racing sloop and bite the spindrift
blown across her bows--not a day for lawyers but for lovers!

"Here's '76 Fed.'," said Tutt.

"What's become of Sorg?"

"Gone. Mad. Says the whole point of the Fat and Skinny Club is in the
name."

"I fancy--from looking at Mr. Sorg--that that is quite true," remarked
Mr. Tutt. He paused and reaching down into a lower compartment of his
desk, lifted out a tumbler and his bottle of malt extract, which he
placed carefully at his elbow and leaned back again contemplatively.
"Look here, Tutt," he said. "I want to ask you something. Is there
anything the matter with you?"

Tutt regarded him with the air of a small boy caught peeking through a
knot hole.

"Why,--no!" he protested lamely. "That is--nothing in particular. I do
feel a bit restless--sort of vaguely dissatisfied."

Mr. Tutt nodded sympathetically.

"How old are you, Tutt?"

"Forty-eight."

"And you feel just at present as if life were 'flat, stale and
unprofitable?'"

"Why--yes; you might put it that way. The fact is every day seems just
like every other day. I don't even get any pleasure out of eating. The
very sight of a boiled egg beside my plate at breakfast gives me the
willies. I can't eat boiled eggs any more. They sicken me!"

"Exactly!" Mr. Tutt poured out a glass of the malt extract.

"I feel the same way about a lot of things," Tutt hurried on. "Special
demurrers, for instance. They bore me horribly. And supplementary
proceedings get most frightfully upon my nerves."

"Exactly!" repeated Mr. Tutt.

"What do you mean by 'exactly?'" snapped Tutt.

"You're bored," explained his partner.

"Rather!" agreed Tutt. "Bored to death. Not with anything special, you
understand; just everything. I feel as if I'd like to do something
devilish."

"When a man feels like that he better go to a doctor," declared Mr.
Tutt.

"A doctor!" exclaimed Tutt derisively. "What good would a doctor do me?"

"He might keep you from getting into trouble."

"Oh, you needn't be alarmed. I won't get into any trouble."

"It's the dangerous age," said Mr. Tutt. "