he found, at the last minute, he couldn't go, for the simple and cogent reason that Checkleigh or Stocks had appropriated his dress suit. "It's infernally unlucky, Rabbits having an affair on to-night. But you know how it is, Champ--she'd never forgive me if I didn't show up. Big-wigs from home, and all that, and she feels it's her duty to make me show 'em I haven't become an Apache. And my togs are out at interest--one has to pay one's rent _sometimes_, you understand," explained Checkleigh, who was dressing before Peter's mirror. "_You_ don't have to care: _you_ aren't compelled to keep in her good graces!" "Oh, all right. I don't mind. I only accepted to please Mrs. Hemingway." "Mrs. Hemingway is my very good friend. At the first opportunity I shall explain to her. She can readily understand that "One may go without relatives, cousins, and aunts-- But civilized man can_not_ go without pants. I wish you hadn't such deucedly long legs, Champ. Regular hop-poles!" grumbled Checkleigh, ungratefully. "They are poor things, but mine own," said Peter, mildly. "You will find a five-franc piece in the waistcoat pocket, Checkleigh, if you happen to want it. I keep it there for cab fare." "If I happen to want it!" shrieked Checkleigh. "Oh, bloated plutocrat, purse-proud millionaire, I always happen to want it!" He waved an eloquent hand to the circumambient air. "He has five-franc pieces in his waistcoat pocket--and no Rabbits in his family!" cried Checkleigh. "Now, have you a presentable pair of gloves, Croesus?--Oh, damn your legs, Champneys! Look at these beastly breeches of yours, will you? I've had to turn 'em up until you'd fancy I was wearing cuffs on the ankles, and still they're too long!" "You should have cut 'em off a bit--then you wouldn't look as though you were poulticing your shins. And they'd fit me, too," commented Stocks, who had sauntered in. Checkleigh looked at Peter's watch--his own was "out at interest" along with his dress suit--and shook his head dolefully. "If you'd just suggested it sooner, I could have done it--now it's too late." he lamented. "Your progeny will probably resemble herons, Champneys, and serve 'em right!--Are those _new_ gloves? I _am_ a credit to Rabbits!" And he rushed off. "What a friend we have in Champ-neys, All his gloves and pa-ants to wear!"