“Oh, well, you know, Miss Raymond,” stammered Mr. Sims, “that sort of attire, you know, is hardly the thing for the drawing-room, you know.”
“He is a shantyman,” said Maimie, apologetically, “and they all dress like that. I don't suppose that he has any other clothes with him.”
“Oh, of course,” assented Mr. Sims, retreating before this double attack.
“Besides,” continued Kate, “it is good taste to dress in the garb of your profession, isn't it, Lieutenant De Lacy?”
“Oh, come now, Miss Kate, that's all right,” said the lieutenant, “but you must draw the line somewhere, you know. Those colors now you must confess are a little startling.”
“You didn't mind the colors when he saved you the other day from that awful mob!”
“One for you, De Lacy,” cried Harry.
“Quite right,” answered the lieutenant, “but don't mistake me. I distinguish between a fellow and his clothes.”
“For my part,” said Kate, “I don't care how a man is dressed; if I like him, I like him should he appear in a blanket and feathers.”
“Don't speak of it,” gasped the lieutenant.