“Why you don't suppose that he's obliged to inform us all when he has some idea of doing the genteel,” remarked one of the first class.
“Are Hamilton and Trevannion invited?” asked Salisbury.
“In good troth! thou art a bat of the most blind species,” said Frank; “didn't you see them both just now in all their best toggery? Trevannion went up to his room just after school, and has, I believe, at last adorned his beauteous person to his mind—all graces and delicious odors.—Faugh! he puts me in mind of a hair-dresser's shop.”
“He declares that his new perfumes are something expressly superior,” said another. “He wouldn't touch your vulgar scents.”
“His millefleurs is at all events uncommonly like a muskrat,” said Salisbury.
“And,” remarked Frank, “as that erudite youth, Oars, would say, ‘puts me in mind of some poet, but I've forgotten his name.’ However, two lines borrowed from him, which my sister quotes to me when I am genteel, will do as well as his name:
“ ‘I cannot talk with civet in the room—
A fine puss gentleman, that's all perfume.’ ”
Reginald laughed. “I often think of the overrun flower-pots in the cottages at Dashwood, when Trevannion has been adorning himself. I once mortally offended him by the same quotation.”
“Had you the amazing audacity! the intolerable presumption!” cried Frank, pretending to start. “I perceive his magnificent scorn didn't quite annihilate you; I think, though, he was three hours embellishing himself to-night.”