The Amateur Gentleman
Page 132"Are you in, sir?" he inquired in an utterly impersonal tone.
"In?" repeated Barnabas, with a quick downward glance at his tight
nether garments, "in?--in what?--in where?"
"Are you at 'ome, sir?"
"At home? Of course,--can't you see that?"
"Yes, sir," returned the Gentleman-in-Powder, his legs growing a
little agitated.
"Then why do you ask?"
"There is a--person below, sir."
"A person?"
"Yes, sir,--very much so! Got 'is foot in the door--wouldn't take it
out--had to let 'em in--waiting in the 'all, sir."
"What's he like, who is he?"
"Whiskers, sir,--name of Snivels,--no card!" Here might have been
"Ask him to wait."
"Beg pardon, sir--did you say--to wait?" (Agitation growing.) "Yes. Say I'll be down at once." (Agitation extreme.) "Meaning as you will--see 'im, sir?" (Agitation indescribable.) "Yes," said Barnabas, "yes, of course."
The Gentleman-in-Powder bowed; his eye was calm, his brow unruffled,
but his legs!!! And his nose was more supercilious than ever as he
closed the door upon it.
Mr. Smivvle, meanwhile, was standing downstairs before a mirror,
apparently lost in contemplation of his whiskers, and indeed they
seemed to afford him a vast degree of pleasure, for he stroked them
with caressing fingers, and smiled upon them quite benevolently.
"Six pair of silver candlesticks!" he murmured. "Persian rugs!
Bric-a-brac, rare--costly pictures! He's a Nabob, by heaven,--yes he
is,--a mysterious young Nabob, wallowing in wealth! Five shillings?
--preposterous! we'll make it--ten,--and--yes, shall we say another
five shillings for the cursed flunkey,--here he comes!"
And indeed, at that moment the legs of the Gentleman-in-Powder might
have been descried descending the stair rather more pompously than
usual. As soon as they had become stationary, Mr. Smivvle directed a
glance at the nearest, and addressed it.
"James!" said he.
The Gentleman-in-Powder became lost in dreamy abstraction, with the
exception of his legs which worked slightly. Hereupon Mr. Smivvle
reached out and poked him gently with the head of his tasselled cane.
"Awake, James?" said he.
"Name of Harthur--if you please, sir!" retorted the
Gentleman-in-Powder, brushing away the touch of the cane, and eyeing
the place with much concern.
"if you would continue to ornament this lordly mansion, James, be
more respectful, hereafter, to your master's old and tried friends,"
saying which Mr. Smivvle gave a twirl to each whisker, and turned to
inspect a cabinet of old china.
"Sevres, by George!" he murmured, "we'll make it a pound!" He was
still lost in contemplation of the luxurious appointments that
everywhere met his view, and was seriously considering the
advisability of "making it thirty shillings," when the appearance of
Barnabas cut him short, and he at once became all smiles, flourishes
and whiskers.