"Bellows, I'm catching my death," shivered Mr. Van Pycke. "I feel it coming. Get me something to drink. My God, look at my shoes! They're sopping wet. Bosworth, don't stand there like a clothing store model! I must have dry shoes and stockings. I can't--" "A clothing store model?" murmured the footman, strangely perturbed. "I can't run the chance of pneumonia at my age," went on Mr. Van Pycke. "Bellows, do you suppose there's a dry pair of trousers in the house? I'm wet to the knees. I must have shoes. Demmit, Bosworth, do something!" "My dear father, don't look at me. I'm using my trousers. I dare say Bellows has an extra suit of livery." "If you wouldn't mind wearing brown trousers with a yellow stripe down the leg, sir," began Bellows. "Anything," interrupted Mr. Van Pycke, irritably. "But I must also have shoes." Bellows was thoughtful. "I think, sir, that there is an old pair of riding boots under the stairs, sir. They belonged to poor Mr. Scoville, sir." "I don't like the idea of wearing other men's shoes--" objected Mr. Van Pycke, with an apprehensive glance at his son. "I don't think it would matter, sir," said Bellows, affably. "Mr. Scoville hasn't worn them in two years and a half." Mr. Van Pycke's look of horror caused Bellows to realize. "I beg pardon, sir. It would be rather grewsome getting into dead men's boots, sir. I never thought--" "That's undoubtedly what Mr. Van Pycke is contemplating, Bellows," said Bosworth, slyly. "Sir!" snapped Mr. Van Pycke. Bellows' face lighted with the joy of a great discovery. "I have it, sir. If you will wait out here just a few moments, sir, I can have trousers, shoes, and stockings. Have you a notion, sir, as to the size?" He stood back and looked Mr. Van Pycke over carefully. "I think I can fix it, sir." He departed hastily, closing the drawing-room door behind him. Bosworth sat down upon a frail Italian chair and watched his father unbutton his shoes while standing on one foot, propped against the wall. "Dad, he's going to sandbag one of the guests and take off his clothes," the young man said, smiling broadly. His eyes were quite steady now, and merry. "Why are you here, sir?" demanded his father, irrelevantly, suddenly remembering that Bosworth had not mentioned his intention to stop at Mrs. Scoville's. The young man was spared the expediency of a reply by the return of Bellows, with a pair of trousers over his arm, shoes and stockings in his hand. He seemed in some haste to close the drawing-room door behind him. "You can change in the room at the head of the stairs, sir." Mr. Van Pycke, in his stocking feet, preceded the footman up the stairs, treading very tenderly, as if in mortal fear of tacks.