"I see," said Mary, as he paused and flushed. "Go on." She was not exactly helpful, sitting there and staring at Anthony with her great, deep-blue eyes. They were very beautiful eyes, doubtless, but they caused Anthony's mind to stagger as he labored on. "There are the back stairs, of course, but to pass them it would be necessary to meet servants and employees of the house in half a dozen places; I believe there is even a gate-keeper of some sort below and--oh, the back stairs would not be at all possible!" said Anthony as he pushed the button for Wilkins. "I deplore the necessity of sending you out as you came, Miss Mary, but--er--Wilkins! Mr. Prentiss's clothes, if you please." "What of them, sir?" Wilkins asked blankly. "Bring them here." "But I can't do that, Mr. Fry." "Why not?" Anthony asked crisply. "You told me to dispose of them last night, sir. I've thrown them out!" Anthony caught his breath. "Where have you thrown them?" "Out with the other refuse of the day, sir--on the dumbwaiter." "Then--well, never mind. That is all, Wilkins," said Anthony Fry, his voice thickening somewhat. The invaluable one retired, with a last disapproving glance at the frowsy David, and Anthony's forehead wrinkled. David, the while, sat hunched on the bed and seemed altogether unaffected by the disaster. "Well, you'll have to make the best of some of my wardrobe, I fear," the master of the apartment smiled. "_Yours?_" Mary cried. "They will be a trifle large, but you'll have to hitch them up in spots and in in other spots and make the best of it," Anthony pursued firmly. "It's too bad, of course, but it is unavoidable. Those togs of yours were decidedly shabby and I had meant, while supposing you to be a boy, that to-day we'd have some shopping done for you. Just a moment, please." He left the room with a nervous stride altogether unlike his usual dignified glide. He turned, wildly almost, into the nearest closet in the corridor and switched on the light. There was the dark gray suit, which was too loose even for Anthony, and the dark brown suit, which happened to be too long for him; but the old blue suit--ah, that was the one! Very earnestly, Anthony tried to assure himself that it had been both far too tight and far too short in every detail, at its last wearing; almost pathetically he sought to tell himself that David in the old blue suit would look quite like a young man wearing his own clothes--and with the old blue suit over his arm and a pair of shoes in the other hand, he tip-toed back to David. "This is the next best thing to the clothes you wore, and I'm sure you'll find them quite all right," said he. "Me get into those?" Mary murmured with the same strange apathy.