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, James," continued Mr. Smivvle, belligerent of whisker,
"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.
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