Then Barnabas crossed to a mirror, and, once more, fell to studying

his reflection with critical eyes, in the midst of which examination

he looked up to find Peterby beside him.

"Are you quite satisfied, sir?"

"They are wonderful, John."

"The coat," said Peterby, "y-e-s, the coat will pass well enough,

but I have grave doubts as regard the pantaloons."

"I refuse to have 'em touched, John. And Natty Bell was quite right."

"Sir?" said Peterby.

"You don't know Natty Bell as yet, John, but you may; he is a very

remarkable man! He told me, I remember, that in Town, a man had his

clothes put on for him, and--remembered them,--and so he does,--the

difficulty will be ever to forget 'em, they"--here Barnabas stole a

glance at his legs--"they positively obtrude themselves, John! Yes,

clothes are wonderful things, but I fear they will take a great deal

of living up to!"

Here Barnabas drew a long sigh, in the midst of which he was

interrupted by the calves of the Gentleman-in-Powder, which

presented themselves at the doorway with the announcement: "Viscount Deafenem, sir!"

Barnabas started and hurried forward, very conscious, very nervous,

and for once uncertain of himself by reason of his new and

unaccustomed splendor. But the look in the Viscount's boyish eyes,

his smiling nod of frank approval, and the warm clasp of his hand,

were vastly reassuring.

"Why, Bev, that coat's a marvel!" he exclaimed impulsively,

"it is, I swear it is; turn round--so! Gad, what a fit!"

"I hoped you 'd approve of it, Dick," said Barnabas, a little flushed,

"you see, I know very little about such things, and--"

"Approve of it! My dear fellow! And the cut!"

"Now--as for these--er--pantaloons, Dick--?"

"Dashing, my dear fellow,--devilish dashing!"

"But rather too--too tight, don't you think?"

"Can't be, Bev, tighter the better,--have 'em made too tight to get

into, and you're right; look at mine, if I bend, I split,--deuced

uncomfortable but all the mode, and a man must wear something! My

fellow has the deuce of a time getting me into 'em, confound 'em. Oh,

for ease, give me boots and buckskins!" Hereupon the Viscount having

walked round Barnabas three times, and viewed him critically from

every angle, nodded with an air of finality. "Yes, they do you

infinite credit, my dear fellow,--like everything else;" and he cast

a comprehensive glance round the luxurious apartment.

"The credit of it all rests entirely with Peterby," said Barnabas.

"John--where are you?" But Peterby had disappeared.

"You're the most incomprehensible fellow, Bev," said the Viscount,

seating himself on the edge of the table and swinging his leg.

"You have been a constant surprise to me ever since you found

me--er--let us say--ruminating in the bilboes, and now"--here he

shook his head gravely--"and now it seems you are to become a source

of infernal worry and anxiety as well."




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