Chapter 3

SKINNER'S DRESS SUIT

Honey went to the city with Skinner the next day, and during the lunch-hour a high-class tailor in the financial district measured Skinner for his dress suit. Honey had sensed from Dearie's protest the night of the "raise" that it would be hard to pry him loose from any more cash than the first ninety dollars, so she did n't try to--with words. She would let him convince himself. So, when the wonderful outfit arrived a few days later, and Skinner put it on, she pretended to admire the whole effect unqualifiedly.

"Beautiful!" she cried; "perfectly beautiful!"

But she chuckled to herself as she noted the look of perplexity that gradually came into Skinner's eyes as he regarded himself in the mirror.

"These clothes are very handsome," he said presently, "and they're a perfect fit--but the general effect does n't seem right."

Honey remained discreetly silent.

Presently Skinner turned to her with a suggestion of trouble in his eyes. "Say, Honey, what do dress shirts cost?"

"I don't know exactly. Four dollars, perhaps."

"Four dollars!" There was a suggestion of a snarl in Skinner's tone, the first she'd ever heard. "Four dollars!--the one I've got on only cost ninety cents."

"But that is n't a dress shirt, Dearie."

"No, you bet it is n't! But it's good enough for me!" Then with a touch of sarcasm in his tone, "I suppose a certain kind of collar and tie are necessary for a dress shirt?"

"A dollar would cover that."

"How _many_ collars?" he almost shouted.

"One."

Another pause; then, "I've got to have studs?"

Honey nodded.

Another pause. "And, holy smoke, cuff-buttons? Say, where do we get off?"

"They 're not expensive, Dearie."

"But have you any idea how much?" he insisted.

"Four dollars ought to cover that."

"By gosh! Well, I guess that's all," he said quietly. Just then he glanced down at his shoes. "It is n't necessary to have patent leathers, too?" he appealed.

"It's customary, Dearie, but not absolutely necessary."

"People don't see your feet in a reception like that," he urged.

Honey smiled. "They might without difficulty, Dearie, if you chanced to walk across the floor in some vacant space. Remember, you're not in the subway where everybody stands on them and hides them."

"Don't be funny," said Skinner. "Mine are only in proportion. How much? That's the question, while we're at it--how much?"

"You know the price of men's shoes better than I do, Dearie."

"I saw some patent leathers on Cortlandt Street at three dollars and a half."

"Those were n't patent leathers--only pasteboard. They'd fall to pieces if the night happened to be moist. And you'd reach the party barefooted. Think of it, Dearie, going in with a dress suit on and bare feet!"

Her giggle irritated Skinner.

"It may be very funny to you but--how much? That's the question!"

"Not more than six dollars for the best."

"I see," said Skinner, making an effort to be calm. "Silk hosiery?"

"A dollar will cover socks and garters both."

"Garters?" Skinner snapped. "Garters are a luxury. Besides, I never had any success with garters. Safety pins for mine."

"My Dearie a safety-pin man--in a dress suit--not much!"

"Thank goodness, I don't have to have a high hat!"

"If there's anything that's really funny," Honey observed, "it's the combination of a fine dress suit and a cheap hat. Six dollars will cover that."

"That's a darned sight more than the hat'll cover if I don't stop spending money! But why a hat, anyway?" he continued; "you don't wear it in the house. That's the only time your dress suit shows. When you're out of doors you wear it under an overcoat." He paused abruptly. "An overcoat! Great Scott! Have I got to have a new overcoat?"

"You seem to _think_ you have, and, honestly, I agree with you. It would never do, Dearie, to be fine at both ends and shabby in the middle."

Skinner grunted. "An overcoat will cost forty dollars! Do you hear?--forty dollars!"

"I did n't say anything about an overcoat, Dearie. It's your own suggestion."

"You did n't say anything about it--oh, no--you only said enough to cinch my suggestion! Forty dollars," he repeated, "and a hat--six dollars more! Well, by thunder, I 'll _get_ a hat! Gee whiz! What have you let me in for, anyway?"

"_I_ let you in for, Dearie?" Honey's baby-blue eyes stared at him. "You let _yourself_ in for it when you got your raise."

Skinner said nothing for a moment, then burst out, "Say, I have n't got to get new underclothing, have I? Now, don't you even admit that I have! Don't you dare admit it! People can't see my underclothes unless I take my coat off and turn up my shirt-sleeves or roll up my trousers as if I were going in wading."

"Of course, you have n't got to get new underclothes, Dearie. But there's a psychology to it. If you don't _feel_ well dressed, you won't _look_ well dressed. You don't want to be a fraud, with a beautiful dress suit and cheap underneath--and my old Dearie's no fraud."

Skinner passed quickly over the remark. "How much?"

"You can get the best for four dollars a garment."

"Gosh!"

For a moment Skinner pondered; then abruptly, "Say I 'll be hanged if I don't buy new underclothes. For the first time in my life, I 'll be well dressed all through--hide, hoofs, and horns!--socks, drawers, undershirt, shoes, trousers, waistcoat, coat, hat, overcoat! Is there anything else?" he shouted.

"Let me think."

"Yes, think hard!" Skinner retorted. "Don't leave a stone unturned to make me the one, great, perfect tailor's model!"

"There are gloves and a monocle chain. You can get them both for three dollars," Honey added sweetly, affecting not to notice Skinner's reproachful irony.

"A monocle chain?" Skinner shouted. "What's that? Something to lead me by? Am I going to be a monkey?"

"Don't be silly, Dearie!"

Skinner laughed with deep disgust. "Why be a 'piker,' Skinner? You got your raise, did n't you? Damn you, you got your raise! Why be a 'piker'?"

"Piker?" Honey exclaimed. "It'll be a regular debauch in clothes!"

"Debauch!" Skinner cried. "It'll be a riot!"

Honey clapped her hands delightedly.

"Is that all? Are you through with me? Are you finished with me absolutely?"

Honey nodded.

"You're not holding anything in reserve to spring on me? If you've got anything to say, say it now while I 'm in my agony--you can't hurt me any more!"

"My love, you're the finished product!"

"Good!" Skinner paused; then with quiet, grim resolution: "Now, we'll begin on you!"

"Me?" Honey cried.

"Yes, you! You don't suppose I 'm going to be the only one in this outfit to be decked out in gay attire? What would they think if they saw a resplendent individual like me and a shabby little wife? It would be as bad as the man that went on his wedding trip alone because he was too darned mean or too darned poor to take his wife along!"

"But _me_! I'm all right!"

"What have you got?" Skinner insisted grimly. He had borne the gaff--now it was his turn to do some of the punishing, and he enjoyed it. "What have you got?" he repeated.

"The beautiful pink dress I made over."

"Get it," said Skinner.

Already his tone was taking on an unaccustomed authority, and Honey hastened to do as she was bid. She got the pretty, home-made thing and laid it on the table.

"Put it on," Skinner ordered.

Honey got into the dress as quickly as her trembling fingers would permit.

Skinner stood off and inspected her.

"That's a beautiful little dress for the house," he said finally, "but it does n't match this dress suit. Incompatible is n't the word."

"Would n't this humble dress set off your clothes by contrast?" Honey said, affecting meekness, her sense of humor getting the uppermost.

"Yes, but these clothes of mine would also set off that humble dress by contrast, and that I won't have for a minute! You're the beauty spot in this outfit, my dear," Skinner said tenderly, "not I. I 'm not going to do the peacock act. I'm the quiet, dignified one. That's what I affect. It rests with you to keep up the pulchritudinous end of it. That's it! You've got to dress up to _this_!"

He smiled fondly at the shrinking Honey.

Honey began to tremble. Dearie had no idea of the cost of women's clothes!

"Look here," Skinner went on, resuming the imperative, "I got this dress suit at a first-class tailor's--you go to a first-class dressmaker and get a gown to correspond with it. To correspond with my patent leathers, you get evening shoes at a first-class bootmaker's. To correspond with my overcoat, you get an evening cloak. Piece for piece, you must do just as I do. We'll be a symphony in clothes! Silk stockings, long gloves, silk underwear, and all the rest of it--that's what you're going to have!"

"But silk underwear? No one can see it, Dearie," Honey protested.

"There's a psychology to it, remember. I want you to _feel_ well dressed."

Honey's face went white.

"Have you any idea what these things will cost?"

"No!--and I don't care!" Skinner burst out. "It's all on me! _I_ got the raise, did n't I? You did n't, did you? Very well, _I'll_ take the consequences--and be damned to 'em!"

Then Skinner swung around and shook his finger at Honey.

"And I want you to understand, we're going to _ride_ to that reception--in a cab! For one night in his life Skinner will not be a walk-in-the-slush man!"