His helmet tossed as he looked back. "I guess we _all_'ve got our little prejudices," he remarked sententiously; "I know _I_ have! I'm from the South!" And without another word, Mr. O'Keefe presented his broad back to us, and swinging his stick carelessly, sauntered down the drive. "What the deuce!" I exclaimed, looking after him. "I say, Jenkins, what did he mean?" Jenkins' face expressed mild reproach and surprise. "Can it possibly matter, sir?" he questioned wearily. "Persons of--er--that sort, you know, sir?" "Jove!" I uttered, relieved. Jenkins' coldly elevated brows dismissed the matter from further consideration. He lifted the parcel with a slight gesture of inquiry. I had already come to a decision about it: I would send it to Billings! Perhaps the retrieving of the pajamas would have a soothing effect upon his poor mind! I gave Jenkins instructions. "H'm! Of course, manage to speak with him alone," I cautioned, having thought of Judge Billings; "and don't forget the message." "Certainly, sir," said Jenkins attentively. "I'm just to say: 'Mr. Lightnut's compliments, sir, and he says _you'll_ know what to do with these.'" I nodded. "Exactly, and I'll wait here--but, oh, hurry, dash it!" And I looked longingly at the pavilion and tried to feel if my part was right. He _did_ hurry! By Jove, he was back almost immediately and looking a bit rattled. "Yes, sir!"--he coughed as I screwed my glass inquiringly--"I got there just as the judge went into his room across the corridor, and Mr. Billings opened the door the minute I said I was from you. I gave him the package and the message and he took it over in a corner; and then in about a minute I heard him chuck it somewhere and say some long word. He came back to me, looking kinder irritated and with his eyes snapping." "Oh!" I uttered nervously. "Er, what did he say, Jenkins?" Jenkins sighed. "Oh, well, sir, nothing as you might say was anything, _really_; he jerks out kinder crossly: 'Tell Mr. Lightnut, I say one thing at a time, and give him this!'" On the scrap of paper I clutched out of Jenkins' hand was a crazy scrawl of just a half-dozen words: _I'm a biped, not a centipede!_ I squinted through the dashed thing twice, but could make nothing of it--I even tried it backward! "Jove!" I muttered perplexedly. "It's rum, Jenkins!" Jenkins' mouth tightened and relaxed. "H'm, what _I_ thought, sir," he responded soberly. "The demon rum, sir!" CHAPTER XXVIII "IF EVER I FIND A MAN!" "I trust you've not been getting into trouble, Mr. Lightnut!" Her lovely eyes were dancing with mischief as they hung there below mine--eyes, bluer than the Hudson at our feet; yet between the jolly ripples that played across those pools of truth I could glimpse far down into depths that were the most devilishly entrancing, darkly, deeply, beautifully--oh, _you_ know!