Barnes's heart was still pounding rapidly as he made the rueful admission that he "didn't have a thing to wear." He couldn't think of accepting the gracious invitation-"Don't you think the clothes you have on your back will last through the evening?" inquired O'Dowd quaintly.
"But look at them!" cried Barnes. "I've tramped in 'em for two weeks and--"
"All the more reason why you should be thankful they're good and stout," said O'Dowd.
"We live rather simply up here, Mr. Barnes," said De Soto. "There isn't a dinner jacket or a spike tail coat on the place. It's strictly against the law up here to have such things about one's person. Come as you are, sir. I assure you I speak the truth when I say we don't dress for dinner."
"Bedad," said O'Dowd enthusiastically, "if it will make ye feel any more comfortable I'll put on the corduroy outfit I go trout fishing in, bespattered and patched as it is. And De Soto will appear in the white duck trousers and blazer he tries to play tennis in,--though, God bless him, poor wretch, he hates to put them on after all he's heard said about his game."
"If they'll take me as I am," began Barnes, doubtfully.
"I say," called out O'Dowd to the sheriff, who was gazing longingly at the horses tethered at the bottom of the slope; "would ye mind leading Mr. Barnes's nag back to the Tavern? He is stopping to dinner. And, while I think of it, are you satisfied, Mr. Sheriff, with the day's work? If not, you will be welcome again at any time, if ye'll only telephone a half minute in advance." To Barnes he said: "We'll send you down in the automobile to-night, provided it has survived the day. We're expecting the poor thing to die in its tracks at almost any instant."
Ten minutes later Barnes passed through the portals of Green Fancy.