Dan grinned.  “Naw.  I left him doin’ as well as could be expected.”

Mrs. Wheeler met Ralph on the stairs.  “He’s up in his room.  He complains his new shoes are too tight.  I think it’s nervousness.  Perhaps he’ll let you shave him; I’m sure he’ll cut himself.  And I wish the barber hadn’t cut his hair so short, Ralph.  I hate this new fashion of shearing men behind the ears.  The back of his neck is the ugliest part of a man.”  She spoke with such resentment that Ralph broke into a laugh.

“Why, Mother, I thought all men looked alike to you!  Anyhow, Claude’s no beauty.”

“When will you want your bath?  I’ll have to manage so that everybody won’t be calling for hot water at once.”  She turned to Mr. Wheeler who sat writing a check at the secretary.  “Father, could you take your bath now, and be out of the way?”

“Bath?” Mr. Wheeler shouted, “I don’t want any bath!  I’m not going to be married tonight.  I guess we don’t have to boil the whole house for Enid.”

Ralph snickered and shot upstairs.  He found Claude sitting on the bed, with one shoe off and one shoe on.  A pile of socks lay scattered on the rug.  A suitcase stood open on one chair and a black travelling bag on another.

“Are you sure they’re too small?” Ralph asked.

“About four sizes.”

“Well, why didn’t you get them big enough?”

“I did.  That shark in Hastings worked off another pair on me when I wasn’t looking.  That’s all right,” snatching away the shoe his brother had picked up to examine.  “I don’t care, so long as I can stand in them.  You’d better go telephone the depot and ask if the train’s on time.”

“They won’t know yet.  It’s seven hours till it’s due.”

“Then telephone later.  But find out, somehow.  I don’t want to stand around that station, waiting for the train.”

Ralph whistled.  Clearly, his young man was going to be hard to manage.  He proposed a bath as a soothing measure.  No, Claude had had his bath.  Had he, then, packed his suitcase?

“How the devil can I pack it when I don’t know what I’m going to put on?”

“You’ll put on one shirt and one pair of socks.  I’m going to get some of this stuff out of the way for you.”  Ralph caught up a handful of socks and fell to sorting them.  Several had bright red spots on the toe.  He began to laugh.

“I know why your shoe hurts, you’ve cut your foot!”

Claude sprang up as if a hornet had stung him.  “Will you get out of here,” he shouted, “and let me alone?”

Ralph vanished.  He told his mother he would dress at once, as they might have to use force with Claude at the last moment.  The wedding ceremony was to be at eight, supper was to follow, and Claude and Enid were to leave Frankfort at 10:25, on the Denver express.  At six o’clock, when Ralph knocked at his brother’s door, he found him shaved and brushed, and dressed, except for his coat.  His tucked shirt was not rumpled, and his tie was properly knotted.  Whatever pain they concealed, his patent leather shoes were smooth and glistening and resolutely pointed.