He halted, leveling a stern glance at Wilkes. "What the dev--what are you grinning about?" he rasped. "I'm not, sir!" And the butler's hand came down, revealing a sobered countenance. "I was just a-wondering if he would try to get you to put on the pajamas--he did all the rest of us, even--" His eye angled cautiously at the housekeeper, then batted at us significantly as her red head wriggled deeper. "Fact is, I think he's kinder gone off about pajamas--just as I told you, sir." His glance appealed to me. "Yes, sir, when I took you his message--you know--and brought back yours, it was even more so then." I felt myself get devilish red, then pale, for the judge's eyes were on me. "Yes," he muttered, still looking at me, "he _was_ telling me something the other day about some silk pajamas." And then I knew he _knew_! "Yes, sir," continued Wilkes, "when I got back with _your_ message, Mr. Lightnut, he seemed to get more excited about them--about pajamas, I mean. He talked to me and Perkins through the door crack and wanted one of us to put 'em on--'in the interests of science,' _he_ called it--and offered to pass 'em out." "Poor fellow--_poor_ fellow!"--and the judge looked pitiful--"well, why didn't you humor him?" "I--I don't know, sir!" The butler looked embarrassed. "And, anyhow, it was just then Mrs. Warfield came, and he tried to get--" "Oo-o-o-o!" from the black bundle. "And then--" Wilkes hesitated, looking uneasy. "_Go_ on, man!" The butler coughed faintly. "Well, sir, when she--h'm--refused--it was then he asked for Flora. 'All right, then you bring me my Flora,' was what he said, and he sounded irritated like. 'Beg pardon, sir?' says Perkins, putting his head to the crack kinder inquiringly. 'My Flora, man!' he comes back sharp; 'just find and bring my Flora--and some _pins_;'--he seemed particular about the pins--'if I've got to stay alone, I want something to divert me--I want my Flora!'" And the butler mopped his forehead. The bundle erected itself. "His '_wild_ Flora,' was what he said," Miss Warfield corrected sharply; "he said he wanted to embrace--" "Press," Wilkes corrected in turn. She inflated with one drive of the piston. "If there's any difference, _I_ don't know it!" came in a blow-out. And, dash me, if I believe she _did_. She looked it, by Jove! She faced the judge, who was leaning back against the table, looking kind of punctured, don't you know. By Jove, it seemed to me he had grown five years older in as many minutes! This seemed to brighten her. "Wanted to _press_ his 'wild Flora'--his very words!" her voice rasped. My, but that woman looked vicious! She blew her nose, crossed her hands, and propped herself on one foot with an air of ladylike resignation.