McAllister took a chair, and Pondel pressed whiskey and water upon him. Oh, Mr. McAllister, needn't be afraid of it; it was the real old thing; Lord Langollen had sent him a dozen. Lizzie would take a nip with 'em--eh, Lizzie? A gen'elman didn't take that long trip every evenin', and a little refreshment would not only do him good, but, as the Yankees said, would show there was no 'ard feelin', eh? He must really take just a drop. Say when! Lizzie poured out a glass for the much-embarrassed guest. She was in a flowered kimona, even more "neglishay" than her husband, but the bower in which the goddess reclined was a perfect pearl of the decorator's art. Cupids, also "neglishay," toyed with one another around a cluster of electric burners in the ceiling, gay streamers of painted blossoms dangling from their hands and floating down the walls. Gilt chairs, a white and gilt sofa, and a brown etching in a Florentine frame on each wall, were the most conspicuous articles of furniture. At the windows the brilliant salmon-pink curtains bellied softly in the breeze that stole into the chamber and diluted the gentle odor of Parma violets which exuded from the dame in the kimona. To Pondel, McAllister's presence was an evidence of his power; and his pride, tickled mightily, put him in an exquisite good humor. Certainly the occasion required from him, the host, a proper felicitation. "'Ere's to our better acquaintance," said the tailor, raising his glass sententiously. "Lizzie, drink to Mr. McAllister!" The three drank solemnly. Then the voluble tailor addressed himself to the task of entertaining his distinguished guest. McAllister could catch at no opening to explain his visit. Pondel chatted gayly of Paris, the Continent, and familiarly of the races and the _beau monde_. Apparently he knew (by their first names) half the nobility of England, and he endeavored to place his customer equally at his ease with them. He ventured that he knew how most young Americans spent their time in London and Paris; dropped with a wink, that in spite of his present uxoriousness he had been a bit of a dog himself, and ended by suggesting another toast to "A short life and a merry one." The lady of the kimona, grammatically not so strong as her husband, contented herself with expansive smiles and frequent recurrence to the tumbler. "I must explain my visit," finally broke in McAllister. "It's about the clothes." Pondel smiled condescendingly. "My dear Mr. McAllister, you don't need to worry in the slightest. They'll be done promptly to-morrow evenin', take my word for it." McAllister flushed. How in Heaven's name could he ever make the tailor understand? "I've decided I don't want 'em!" he stammered. Pondel's glass went to the table with a bang, and he gazed blankly at his customer. The clubman, not realizing the implication, did not proceed.