Honey's face went white.
"Have you any idea what these things will cost?"
"No!—and I don't care!" Skinner burst out. "It's all on me! I got the raise, did n't I? You did n't, did you? Very well, I'll take the consequences—and be damned to 'em!"
Then Skinner swung around and shook his finger at Honey.
"And I want you to understand, we're going to ride to that reception—in a cab! For one night in his life Skinner will not be a walk-in-the-slush man!"
CHAPTER IV
SKINNER'S DRESS SUIT BEGINS TO GET IN ITS FINE WORK
Meadeville was a suburb once removed—a kind of second cousin to the big city—the only kind of a suburb that could really be aristocratic. Meadeville was populated considerably by moneyed New Yorkers and the First Presbyterian was the smartest church in town. The men who passed the plate all belonged to the millionaire class.
But no church congregation was ever made up entirely of aristocrats. It needs a generous sprinkling of the poor and the moderately well-to-do to keep up the spiritual average. This was the case with the First Presbyterian. Its gatherings were eminently democratic. It was the only occasion when the "upper ten" felt that they could mix with the other "hundreds" without any letting-down of the bars. The ultra-fashionable rarely attended the church gatherings. But this was a special occasion. A new pastor was to be introduced. So, prompted by curiosity and a desire to make a good impression on the future custodian of their morals, the smart set attended in full force.