Skippy's attitude towards social functions underwent a change of front. He began to feel confidently, vaingloriously at ease. He joined in the general conversation determined to rout the brilliant Miss Cantillon, who knew so many things. Now the rule for such preëminence is simple and some acquire it by cunning and others by instinct. Deny the obvious. Reputations have fattened on nothing else. When inevitably the moment arrived to discuss Maude Adams, and her latest play, Skippy announced that he did not like Maude Adams.
"Not like Maude Adams!"
There was a sudden silence and all eyes were turned expectantly toward him as to a manifestly superior intelligence. Finally the swinger of dumb-bells voiced the question.
"But why?"
Skippy considered.
"Too much like Maude Adams," he said cryptically.
Vivi looked at him in admiration.
"How clever, I never thought of that."
"Well, I'm just frantic about Maude Adams!" said the athletic Miss Barrons stubbornly.
"Because you like Maude Adams," said Skippy as a clincher.