invited to a ball in honor of the new governor of the island, my
grandfather Titbottom sauntered into the hall towards midnight,
wrapped in the gorgeous flowers of his dressing-gown, and with his
hands buried in the pockets, as usual. There was great excitement, and
immense deprecation of gubernatorial ire. But it happened that the
governor and my grandfather were old friends, and there was no
offense. But as they were conversing together, one of the distressed
managers cast indignant glances at the brilliant costume of my
grandfather, who summoned him, and asked courteously:

"'Did you invite me or my coat?'

"'You, in a proper coat,' replied the manager.

"The governor smiled approvingly, and looked at my grandfather.

"'My friend," said he to the manager, 'I beg your pardon, I forgot.'

"The next day my grandfather was seen promenading in full ball dress
along the streets of the little town.

"'They ought to know,' said he, 'that I have a proper coat, and that
not contempt nor poverty, but forgetfulness, sent me to a ball in my
dressing-gown.'

"He did not much frequent social festivals after this failure, but he
always told the story with satisfaction and a quiet smile.

"To a stranger, life upon those little islands is uniform even to
weariness. But the old native dons like my grandfather ripen in the