a bad idea, though, after all. Society’s an awful sham. Must be a relief to shake the giddy whirl and retire to—er—contemplation and—er—prayer and hymns, and those things.”
“Oh, cut that, Tommy,” said Bellchambers, cheerfully. “Don’t be afraid that I’ll pass around the plate. I go through these thing-um-bobs with the rest of these old boys because they are the rules. I’m Brother Ambrose here, you know. I’m given just ten minutes to talk to you fellows. That’s rather a new design in waistcoats you have on, isn’t it, Gilliam? Are they wearing those things on Broadway now?”
“It’s the same old Johnny,” said Gilliam, joyfully. “What the devil—I mean why—Oh, confound it! what did you do it for, old man?”
“Peel the bathrobe,” pleaded Eyres, almost tearfully, “and go back with us. The old crowd’ll go wild to see you. This isn’t in your line, Bell, I know half a dozen girls that wore the willow on the quiet when you shook us in that unaccountable way. Hand in your resignation, or get a dispensation, or whatever you have to do to get a release from this ice factory. You’ll get catarrh here, Johnny—and—My God! you haven’t any socks on!”
Bellchambers looked down at his sandaled feet and smiled.
“You fellows don’t understand,” he said, soothingly. “It’s nice of you to want me to go back, but the old life
