"Wilkinson is in all sorts of things that nobody knows of but himself." He glanced over the sub-caption. "Skinner sees no difference socially between the St. Paul and the New York people. Puts St. Paul first," he observed, "thanks for that." He read further. "'But the Western people are more frankly hospitable'!" "Moonshine! Moonshine!" he commented. "Hospitality ain't a matter of location. You'll find generous people and devilish mean people, no matter where you go. That's soft soap. It reads well--but--I know." "It don't look as if he'd have much time for you, Willard." "He ain't through yet," said Jackson, lighting a stogie. "I'll bet you another dress that to-morrow--" "Taken!" Mrs. Jackson turned again to the paper. "That girl knows how to _dress_, all right!" But it was n't Honey's dress that stirred Mrs. Jackson's soul to the depths. These Skinners were hand in glove with the inaccessible Wilkinsons, and--the devil take it--Jackson was no longer a customer of McLaughlin & Perkins, Inc. Skinner read the evening paper with great satisfaction. The inky seed disseminated through the press was, he felt, bound to take strong root in the fertile consciousness of Mrs. Curmudgeon W. Jackson, and therefrom was sure to react effectively upon the decidedly active consciousness of Jackson himself. With this end in view, as per plan of campaign for the reclamation of Willard Jackson, Skinner had had himself interviewed on a subject dear and flattering to the Middle West, especially flattering to St. Paul. He had written his "first impressions of St. Paul" on the way out from New York, and had permitted the same to be extracted by the reporters--with great cunning--from his modest and reluctant self. Honey was present--designedly present--while the young newspaper men were quizzing Skinner, dressed in her very latest, which was carefully noted and described in the interview, for decorative purposes. "We just looked in _en passant_," Skinner observed to the reporters, using his French to the limit. "It's a kind of belated honeymoon. We've seen Mr. Hill's residence and we ran over and looked at those wonderful flour mills in Minneapolis, your neighbor"-- He paused. A frozen atmosphere seemed suddenly to enshroud the reporters. Their pencils ceased to record. "Oh, yes, let's get back to St. Paul." Instantly the temperature rose about a hundred degrees, and the reporters' pencils began to move again. When the newspaper men were gone, Skinner jotted down:-- _Dress-Suit Account_ _Debit_ _Credit_ Useful hint! When you're in St. Paul, talk about _St. Paul_! And when he read his interview in the evening paper, Skinner made this entry:-- _Dress-Suit Account_ _Debit_ _Credit_