“Trust Max for getting himself up in some absurd way, if you particularly want him to look his best. I never knew him slow to discover a way to tease.”
“I wish he wasn’t quite so bright,” said Louis, laughing uneasily. “I want the girls to have a good time, as long as the doctor let me ask them. I’ve hired the only decent rig in Hilton, Searle’s bays and the double sleigh; and now, if Max does anything to spoil it, I’ll cut his acquaintance, see if I don’t.”
“Where are you going?” asked Harry. “We ought to know, so we can send an exploring party after you, in case you get lost or run away with.”
“Up the river, somewhere,” replied Louis, as he pulled on his overcoat and plunged his hands into his sealskin gloves.
“The roads are abominable, that way,” said Harry. “Why don’t you go south?”
“I’ll risk the roads,” said Louis. “Now, where’s Max? He’s the late one, this time.”
“Here he is,” responded Max; “sharp on the minute. Come on.” And he marched into the room, trying in vain to look unconscious of Louis’s expression of consternation and Harry’s evident amusement.
“Max, you sha’n’t! You aren’t going to!” began Louis despairingly.
“To what?” inquired Max innocently.
“To wear those—those things.”