secret arrangement with the costumer
whereby he received a private rebate, deepened his gloom. Why, for ten
thousand six hundred and sixty-three dollars and fifty cents you could
dress the whole female population of New York State and have a bit left
over for Connecticut. So thought Mr. Pilkington, as he read the bad news
in the train. He only ceased to brood upon the high cost of costuming when
in the next line but one there smote his eye an item of four hundred and
ninety-eight dollars for "Clothing." Clothing! Weren't costumes clothing?
Why should he have to pay twice over for the same thing? Mr. Pilkington
was just raging over this, when something lower down in the column caught
his eye. It was the words:--

Clothing .... 187.45

At this Otis Pilkington uttered a stifled cry, so sharp and so
anguished that an old lady in the next seat, who was drinking a glass
of milk, dropped it and had to refund the railway company thirty-five
cents for breakages. For the remainder of the journey she sat with one
eye warily on Mr. Pilkington, waiting for his next move.

This adventure quieted Otis Pilkington down, if it did not soothe him.
He returned blushingly to a perusal of his bill of costs, nearly every
line of which contained some item that infuriated and dismayed him.
"Shoes" ($213.50) he could understand, but what on earth was "Academy.
Rehl. $105.50"? What was "Cuts ... $15"? And what in the name of
everything infernal was this item for "Frames," in which mysterious
luxury he had apparently indulged to the extent of ninety-four dollars
and fifty cents? "Props" occurred on the list no fewer than seventeen
times. Whatever his future, at whatever poor-house he might spend his
declining years, he was supplied with enough props to last his
lifetime.

Otis Pilkington stared blankly at the scenery that flitted past the
train windows. (Scenery! There had been two charges for scenery!
"Friedmann, Samuel ... Scenery ... $3711" and "Unitt and Wickes ...
Scenery ... $2120"). He was suffering the torments of the ruined
gamester at the roulette-table. Thirty-two thousand eight hundred and
fifty-nine dollars, sixty-eight cents! And he was out of pocket ten
thousand in addition from the cheque he had handed over two days ago
to Uncle Chris as his share of the investment of starting Jill in the
motion-pictures. It was terrible! It deprived one of the power of
thought.

The power of thought, however, returned to Mr. Pilkington almos