tly.
And I closed my eyes and leaned back, feeling a bit--just a bit--weary.
Somehow, Billings is always so exhausting when he gets started on
something.

"Oh, cut it out, old chap," I protested, drowsy-like.

"I will," I heard him say. Then I guess I must have dropped off a bit,
for the next thing I knew he was shaking me.

"Dicky! Dicky! Say, look here! _Look_, I tell you!"

I did look, and--well, I was jolly vexed, that's all.

"Oh, I say now!" I spoke severely--just that way, you know. I went on,
remonstrating: "Devilish silly joke, if you ask me. You've gone and
ruined the thing, Billings! Flashy buttons like that, you know--too
tawdry, too cheap."

"_Cheap!_" He almost shouted it. Then he leaned over the back of the
leather chair and pounded his fat head against the cushions, writhing
his big bulk from side to side.

"Quite impossible," I said firmly. "Not _en regle_ at all, you know!"
And I fixed my glass and stared gloomily at the things. The five shiny
buttons just lay there against the delicate silk like so many fiery
crimson cherries. And they reminded me of something--something--what the
deuce was it? Something devilish familiar, whatever it was. And then of
a sudden I had it!

"By Jove, you know!" And I just fell back in consternation. "This is
awful! I'd look like a--er--dashed human cocktail. Oh, I say!"

Then Billings, who was already gasping like a jolly what's-its-name,
dropped upon the arm of the chair and held his side.

"Dicky, you--you'll be the death of me yet," he panted.

I never try to follow Billings. Nobody ever does. So I paid no attention
to him. Shaking his head, he lifted the garment again and held it out of
the direct rays of the shaded lamp. The five buttons leaped out of the
shadow like port lights down the bay on a moonless night.

He leered at me, chuckling. "Look _cheap_ to you, eh? What you might
call _outre_, so to speak?"

"By Jove, of course," I answered ruefully. "I can't sleep in the things
now, you know. What would people say?"

Billings stared at me disagreeably a moment and said something under his
breath. Then he caught up the buttons and the silk, and crushing them in
his hands, buried his face in the mass.

"Oh you beauties, you darlings!" I heard him murmur.

Then he looked at the buttons again, and dash it, he kissed one.
Maudlin--jolly maudlin, I say, if you ask me!

"I say, Dicky," he said carelessly. "You may not care for them, but I've
taken r