"I'd have known you anywhere, Mr. Lightnut." And then I found that we were shaking hands, my fingers crushed in a grasp I never could have thought possible from that tiny hand. "From hearing Jack talk, your name is a sort of household word in the Billings family." I mumbled something jolly idiotic--some acknowledgment. But I was pink about the ears, and I knew it, while she was cool and serene as a lily of the what-you-call-it, don't you know. I was trying not to see the pajamas, trying to pretend not to notice them, but dashed if I didn't only make it worse! For she looked down at herself with a laugh--rather an embarrassed laugh, I thought; and her little shrug and glance directed attention to her attire. "I see you're looking at the pajamas," she said smiling. And her eyes looked at me through those drooping lashes--oh, such a way! "Oh, no--I assure--certainly not," I stammered hastily. Dash it, I never was so rebuked and mortified in all my life. What an ass I had been to seem to notice at all! She looked troubled. "Say, do you mind my wearing them?" she inquired. "I? Certainly not--well, I should say not!" I retorted, almost with indignation. "Sure?" By Jove, what ripping eyes she had! "Of course not!" emphatically. Her sunny head nodded satisfaction. "That's all right, then. I was afraid you wouldn't like it--afraid you would think I was acting a little _free_. But your man Jenkins--isn't that his name?--said he thought you would _like_ for me to wear them." I gasped. "Jen--what's _that_?" I was amazed, indignant at Jenkins' effrontery. "He--he suggested that you wear--er--these?" She nodded, her glorious eyes shining wistfully. "You see, I went to a frat dance last night in Cambridge," she explained; "and in the hurry this morning, somehow, one of my bags--a suit-case--was left behind. And when I got here to-night and began piling the things out of my other bag--well, I saw I was up a tree. Not a thing to slip into, you know--not so much as a dressing-gown or even a bathrobe. Then your man saved my life--suggested these pajamas. See?" "Oh, I see!" I said so; but, dash it, I wasn't sure I did, for I knew so devilish little about girls. But I got hold of this much: I understood that this delicately reared creature had missed the restfulness and luxury of a shift to some sort of dressing-robe after her day of travel. Probably one of those ribbony, pinky-white fripperies one sees in the windows of the Avenue shops, rosy, foamy dreams like the--well, like the crest of a soda cocktail, don't you know. And the pajamas had been adopted as a comfortable makeshift.