"Things do seem to be turning out pretty lucky for me, Biff," Bobby confessed, and then, looking at Mr. Bates, he immediately apologized. "I beg pardon for calling you Biff," said he. "I should have said Mr. Bates." "Cut it!" growled Biff, looking himself over with some complacency nevertheless. From his nice new derby, which replaced the slouch cap he had always preferred, to his neat and uncomfortably-pointed gun-metal leathers which had supplanted the broad-toed tans, Mr. Bates was an epitome of neatly-pressed grooming. White cuffs edged the sleeves of his gray business suit, and--wonder of wonders!--he wore a white shirt with a white collar, in which there was tied a neat bow of--last wonder of all--modest gray! "I suppose that costume is due to distinctly feminine influence, eh, Biff?" "Guilty as Cassie Chadwick!" replied Biff with a sheepish grin. "She's tryin' to civilize me." "Who is?" demanded Bobby. "Oh, _she_ is. You know who I mean. Why, she's even taught me to cut out slang. Say, Bobby, I didn't know how much like a rough-neck I used to talk. I never opened my yawp but what I spilled a line of fricasseed gab so twisted and frazzled and shredded you could use it to stuff sofa-cushions; but now I've handed that string of talk the screw number. No more slang for your Uncle Biff." "I'm glad you have quit it," approved Bobby soberly. "I suppose the next thing I'll hear will be the wedding bells." "No!" Biff denied in a tone so pained and shocked that Bobby looked up in surprise to see his face gone pale. "Don't talk about that, Bobby. Why, I wouldn't dare even think of it myself. I--I never think about it. Me? with a mitt like a picnic ham? Did you ever see her hand, Bobby? And her eyes and her hair and all? Why, Bobby, if I'd ever catch myself daring to think about marrying that girl I'd take myself by the Adam's apple and give myself the damnedest choking that ever turned a mutt's map purple." "I'm sorry, after all, that you are through with slang, Biff," said Bobby, "because if you were still using it you might have expressed that idea so much more picturesquely;" but Biff did not hear him, for from the office came Nellie Platt with a sun-hat in her hand. "Right on time," she said gaily to Biff, and, with a pleasant word for Bobby, went down with Mr. Bates to the river bank, where lay the neat little skiff that Jimmy had bought for her.