The Amateur Gentleman

"Positively--new!" repeated the Marquis in an awestruck voice,

staring at the Viscount wide-eyed. "D'you grasp the importance of

this, Devenham?--d'you see the possibilities, Dick? It will create a

sensation,--it will set all the clubs by the ears, by George! We

shall have the Prince galloping up from Brighton. By heaven, it's

stupendous! Permit me, my dear Beverley. See--here we have three

folds and a tuck, then--oh, Jupiter, it's a positive work of art,

--how the deuce d'you tie it? Never saw anything approaching this,

and I've tried 'em all,--the Mail-coach, the Trone d'Amour, the

Osbaldistone, the Napoleon, the Irish tie, the Mathematical tie, and

the Oriental,--no, 'pon my honor it's unique, it's--it's--" the

Marquis sighed, shook his head, and words failing him, took out his

enamelled snuff-box. "Sir," said he, "I have the very highest regard

for a man of refined taste, and if there is one thing in which that

manifests itself more than another, it is the cravat. Sir, I make

you free of my box, pray honor me." And the Marquis flicked open his

snuff-box and extended it towards Barnabas with a bow.

"My Lord," said Barnabas, shaking his head, "I appreciate the honor

you do me, but pray excuse me,--I never take it."

"No?" said the Marquis with raised brows, "you astonish me; but

then--between ourselves--neither do I. Can't bear the infernal stuff.

Makes me sneeze most damnably. And then, it has such a cursed way of

blowing about! Still, one must conform to fashion, and--"

"Captain Slingsby!"

The Gentleman-in-Powder had scarcely articulated the words, when the

Captain had gripped Barnabas by the hand.

"Congratulate you, Beverley, heartily."

"Thank you, but why?" inquired Barnabas.

"Eh--what? Hasn't Jerningham told you? B'gad, is it possible you

don't know--"

"Why, dooce take me, Sling, if I didn't forget!" said the Marquis,

clapping hand to thigh, "but his cravat put everything else out of

my nob, and small wonder either! You tell him."

"No," answered the Captain. "I upset a cursed apple-stall on my way

here--you got in first--tell him yourself."

"Why, then, Beverley," said the Marquis, extending his hand, in his

turn, as he spoke, "we have pleasure, Sling and I, to tell you that

you are entered for the race on the fifteenth."

"The race!" exclaimed Barnabas, flushing. "You mean I'm to ride then?"

"Yes," nodded the Captain, "but b'gad! we mean more than that, we

mean that you are one of us, that Devenham's friend must be ours

because he's game--"

"And can ride," said the Viscount.

"And is a man of taste," added the Marquis.

Thus it was as one in a dream that Barnabas beheld the legs of the

Gentleman-in-Powder, and heard the words: "Dinner is served, gentlemen!"

But scarcely had they taken their places at the table when the

Marquis rose, his brimming glass in his hand.