"
Mr. Smivvle stared at Barnabas, his brow furrowed by perplexity,
--stared like one who is suddenly at a loss; and indeed his usual
knowing air was quite gone. Then, dropping his gaze to the money on
the table, he swept it into his pocket, almost furtively, and took
up his hat and cane, and, it is worthy of note, that he did it all
without a flourish.
"Mr. Beverley," said he, "in the name of my friend Barrymaine, I
thank you, and--I--I thank you!" So he turned and went out of the
room, and, as he went, he even forgot to swagger.
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.
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