"And, oh, goodie," Honey cried, "we're all prepared for it! Not a penny to spend! Now, don't you dare to think of anything!--is there?" "You're right, Honey, you're right," Skinner almost shouted. He paused abruptly; then, in a hoarse whisper, "Say, Honey, you know how to dance?" Honey stared at him wide-eyed. "Why--ye-es--I waltz." "That's archaic. Do you know the new things, those cubist proposition dances where you glide and side-step and pause and back up and go ahead again and zigzag like an inebriated politician?" "You mean the turkey trot and the tango and the one-step and the fox trot and the hesitation?" Honey rattled off glibly. "Is it necessary to learn them all?" said Skinner. They looked at each other for a few moments without a word. "No use--we've got to do it, Honey." "But that means money. We've only got two weeks, and that means private lessons! And private lessons mean lots of money!" "Honey," said Skinner solemnly, "we've invested in this dress-suit engine of conquest. It's no good unless we use it. We must learn the most effective way to use it or all the first cost will be wasted. Besides, it won't cost much to learn to dance. There are places on Sixth Avenue--" Honey held up both hands. "Mercy, Dearie, if you learn to dance on Sixth Avenue, you'll have the Sixth-Avenue stamp to you. The men who dance on Sixth Avenue hire their dress suits on Third Avenue--it all goes together. Heavens," she sighed, breaking off abruptly, "have we built up a Frankenstein monster? Is that dress suit of yours going to prove as voracious as the fabled boa constrictor?" "This dress suit is going to get all it wants to eat," said Skinner with finality. Honey was frightened at Dearie's newly developed stamina. Skinner, the acquiescent one, putting his foot down like that! "But, Dearie," she urged, "it isn't absolutely necessary for us to learn to dance. And, remember, you promised not to spend any more money." "I told you my dress suit was our engine of conquest--plant! You buy your machinery--your plant. That's the initial cost. Then you have to learn how to run it." He took out his little book and put down:-- _Dress-Suit Account_ _Debit_ _Credit_ Operating expenses. "But you _promised_," Honey persisted. "That was before we got this invitation. Things have changed. _Promised_ not to spend any more money? What about my being a sit-in-the-corner, watch-the-other-fellow-dance, male-wallflower proposition, eh?"--and Honey was convicted by her own words. "But, Dearie, what _will_ this dress suit get us into?" "Debt!--if we don't look out!" Honey crossed to Dearie, put her head on his shoulder, and began to cry softly. "There, there," said Skinner, stroking her glossy hair, "don't you cry, Honey. There's nothing to worry about."