"I do," replied Fanny, dolefully. "Where is that some one? Why does he not appear?"
Toward the end of the meal Mrs. Pamflett swiftly left the room. Looking out of the window she saw her son Jeremiah, and she hastened down to him.
"Well, mother?" said he.
"What has made you so late?" she asked, anxiously.
"Now, don't nag!" he exclaimed. "I couldn't get here before; had a hundred things to look after. The new clothes I ordered never came home, and I had to go and bullyrag the tailor. How do I look, mother?"
"Beautiful, Jeremiah, beautiful!" she said, enthusiastically.
On his feet were patent-leather shoes; on his head the shiniest of belltoppers; on his hands lavender-coloured kid gloves; round his neck a light blue scarf, with a great carbuncle pin stuck in it; and he wore a tourist's suit of russet-brown of a very large check pattern.
"Rather licks 'em, doesn't it?" he asked, in a tone of self-admiration and approval, turning slowly round to exhibit his points.
"That it does, Jeremiah."
"Look at this," he said, taking off his hat.