_ I must apologize for inviting your son to dinner so unceremoniously. But he made a great appeal to me, sitting on the top of a ladder in Elson’s Bookshop. I have a library, in which he may enjoy himself whenever he likes. Meanwhile, may he come to dinner with me on Friday next? Mr. Johnstone, the Member for West Kensington, is coming with his nephew who may be dull without Michael. Michael tells me he thinks of becoming an ecclesiastical lawyer. In that case Johnstone will be particularly useful, and can give him some hints. He’s a personal friend of old Dr. Brownjohn. With many apologies for my ‘impertinence,’ _ _Yours very truly,_ _Arthur Wilmot._ “This is a perfectly sensible letter,” said Mrs. Fane. “Perhaps I thought he was funnier than he really was. Does he say anything else except about me sitting on the top of a ladder?” Somehow Michael was disappointed to hear that this was all. Chapter IX: _The Yellow Age_ D INNER with Mr. Arthur Wilmot occupied most of Michael’s thoughts for a week. He was mainly concerned about his costume, and he was strenuously importunate for a tail-coat. Mrs. Fane, however, was sure that a dinner-jacket would better become his youthfulness. Then arose the question of stick-up collars. Michael pointed out that very soon he would be sixteen, and that here was a fine opportunity to leave behind the Polo or Shakespeare collar. “You’re growing up so quickly, dearest boy,” sighed his mother. Michael was anxious to have one of the new double collars. “But don’t they look rather _outré_ ?” protested Mrs. Fane. “Well, Abercrombie, the Secretary of the Fifteen, wears one,” observed Michael. “Have your own way, dear,” said Mrs. Fane gently. Two or three days before the dinner-party Michael braved everything and wore one of the new double collars to school. Its extravagant advent among the discreet neckwear of the Upper Fifth caused a sensation. Mr. Cray himself looked curiously once or twice at Michael, who assumed in consequence a particularly nonchalant air, and lounged over his desk even more than usual. “Are you going on the stage, Fane?” enquired Mr. Cray finally, exasperated by Michael’s indolent construing. “Not that I know of,” said Michael. “I wasn’t sure whether that collar was part of your get-up as an eccentric comedian.” The Upper Fifth released its well-worn laugh, and Michael scowled at his master. However, he endured the sarcasm of the first two days and still wore the new collars, vowing to himself that presently he would make fresh attacks upon the convention of school attire, since apparently he was able thereby to irritate old Cray.