chairs, with upholstery matching the walls; the huge leather
"slumber-couch," with adjustable lamp at its head. When one opened the
door of the dressing-room closet, it was automatically filled with
light; there was an adjustable three-sided mirror, at which one could
study his own figure from every side. There was a little bronze box
near the bed, in which one might set his shoes, and with a locked door
opening out into the hall, so that the floor-porter could get them
without disturbing one. Each of the bath-rooms was the size of an
ordinary man's parlour, with floor and walls of snow-white marble, and
a door composed of an imported plate-glass mirror. There was a great
porcelain tub, with glass handles upon the wall by which you could help
yourself out of it, and a shower-bath with linen duck curtains, which
were changed every day; and a marble slab upon which you might lie to
be rubbed by the masseur who would come at the touch of a button.

There was no end to the miracles of this establishment, as Montague
found in the course of time. There was no chance that the antique
bronze clock on the mantel might go wrong, for it was electrically
controlled from the office. You did not open the window and let in the
dust, for the room was automatically ventilated, and you turned a
switch marked "hot" and "cold." The office would furnish you a guide
who would show you the establishment; and you might see your bread
being kneaded by electricity, upon an opal glass table, and your eggs
being tested by electric light; you might peer into huge refrigerators,
ventilated by electric fans, and in which each tiny lamb chop reposed
in a separate holder. Upon your own floor was a pantry, provided with
hot and cold storage-rooms and an air-tight dumb-waiter; you might have
your own private linen and crockery and plate, and your own family
butler, if you wished. Your children, however, would not be permitted
in the building, even though you were dying--this was a small
concession which you made to a host who had invested a million dollars
and a half in furniture alone.

A few minutes later the telephone bell rang, and Oliver answered it and
said, "Send him up."

"Here's the tailor," he remarked, as he hung up the receiver.

"Whose tailor?" asked his brother.

"Yours," said he.

"Do I have to have some new clothes?" Montague asked.

"You haven't any clothes at present," was the reply.

Montague was standing in front of the "cost