be instructed to rescue his hat for him, and he could toddle along
down-town again.

She didn't give him time to complete the outline of this masterly
stratagem. "Don't be impossible, Rod," she said. "Don't you even know
whose birthday party this is?"

He looked at her, frowned, then laughed. He had a great big laugh.

"I thought it was one of the kid's," he said.

"Well, it isn't," she told him. "It's yours. And those people down there
were asked to meet you. And you've got just about seven minutes to get
presentable in. Go into Martin's bathroom and take off those horrible
clothes. I'll send Walters in to lay out some things of Martin's."

She came up to him and, at arm's length, touched him with cautious
finger-tips. "And do, please, there's a dear boy," she pleaded, "hurry
as fast as you can, and then come down and be as nice as you can"--she
hesitated--"especially to Hermione Woodruff. She thinks you're a wonder
and I don't want her to be disappointed."

"The widdy?" he asked. "Sure I'll be nice to her."

She looked after him rather dubiously as he disappeared in the direction
of her husband's room.

She'd have felt safer about him if he had seemed more subdued as a
result of his escapade. There was a sort of hilarious contentment about
him that filled her with misgivings.