In the "cage man" Colby found a fresh audience. All the way into town he talked about his past efforts, from the time he slept under the grocery-store counter until he reached the Presidency of the Steel Company, and Skinner, fascinated and sympathetic, "listened" his way into the magnate's esteem. Quite a number of the other "gold bugs"--as Skinner had dubbed them--whom he had seen at the Crawford affair were in the Pullman. They nodded to Skinner in a cordial way, which put him at once at his ease, and he soon felt quite as much at home in the Pullman as he had in the smoker. That night he told Honey all about it. "It only costs twenty-five cents extra," he said apologetically. "That's nothing. I'm glad you did it, Dearie. You must do it every day." "Very well," said Skinner. A few days later Skinner said to Honey, as he stretched his long legs under the table and sipped his second demi-tasse, "Well, Honey, I've joined the Pullman Club for keeps. It only costs a dollar and a half a week." "It's well worth the money," said Honey. Skinner regarded his beautiful little wife through half-closed eyes. He was puzzled. What curious change had been wrought in this exponent--this almost symbol--of thrift that she should actually encourage him in the pursuit of the ruinous course into which he'd been thrust by the wonderful dress suit! He said nothing, but he jotted down in his little book:-- _Dress-Suit Account_ _Debit_ _Credit_ To operating expenses: $1.50 a week. The trip into town in the Pullman each day was a social event with Skinner. He looked forward to it and what he learned was each night a subject of gossip at the dinner table. "It's a regular 'joy ride' and I'm getting all kinds of good out of it," said he enthusiastically one evening. "By Jove, clothes are a good commercial proposition." "Don't talk about the commercial side of it, Dearie. Tell me about the 'gold bugs.'" "They're wonderful fellows," said Skinner, with the air of a man who had always been accustomed to traveling with such people and was now unbending to confide familiar items of special interest to some unsophisticated listener. "You'd find them fascinating." "They 're just like other men, are n't they?" Skinner rather pitied her inexperience. "No, they're not. They're just like great, big boys. The most natural talkers in the world--simple, direct, clear." "Do you ever talk?" This question brought Skinner back to earth again. He was just Dearie now. "_Do_ I? Say, Honey, I've been isolated in that cage of mine so long that I thought I'd forgotten how to talk. But you'd be surprised to hear me--right in with the rest of them!" "But you can't talk big things, Dearie, like them. You don't _know_ big things."