"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.