and then I gave one of them a kick with the side of my bare foot
which sent it half way under the bed.

But what was I to do? I began washing myself and brushing my hair
with this horrid weight upon my mind. My first plan was to go to
bed, and send down word that I had been taken suddenly ill in the
stomach; then to rise early in the morning and get away unobserved.
But by such a course of action I should lose all chance of any
further acquaintance with those pretty girls! That they were already
aware of the extent of my predicament, and were now enjoying it--of
that I was quite sure.

What if I boldly put on the shooting-boots, and clattered down to
dinner in them? What if I took the bull by the horns, and made,
myself, the most of the joke? This might be very well for the
dinner, but it would be a bad joke for me when the hour for dancing
came. And, alas! I felt that I lacked the courage. It is not every
man that can walk down to dinner, in a strange house full of ladies,
wearing such boots as those I have described.

Should I not attempt to borrow a pair? This, all the world will say,
should have been my first idea. But I have not yet mentioned that I
am myself a large-boned man, and that my feet are especially well
developed. I had never for a moment entertained a hope that I should
find any one in that house whose boot I could wear. But at last I
rang the bell. I would send for Jack, and if everything failed, I
would communicate my grief to him.

I had to ring twice before anybody came. The servants, I well knew,
were putting the dinner on the table. At last a man entered the