"It's the theatre dresses. Mrs. Betts, the keeper of the wardrobe, gave me the job. She will pay me, you know."
Brian nodded, and then left the room. His quaint little figure, in knee-breeches and swallow-tail short coat, with a wide crimped frill falling over the collar and the wrist-bands, would excite a smile now if seen in the streets of Bath.
Heavy leather shoes, tied with wide black ribbon, and dull yellow stockings, which met the legs of the breeches, and were fastened with buckles, completed his attire. But the fine open face, with its winning smile, and white forehead shaded by clustering curls, could not be disguised. Brian had a charm about him few people could resist.
He lived with his aunts, who were fashionable mantua-makers and milliners in John Street, and their rooms were frequented by many of the élite, who came to them to consult about the fashion and the mode, although the Miss Hoblyns' fame was not, in 1779, what it became when the Duchess of York consulted them as to her "top-gear" a few years later.
At this time they were young women, and had only laid the foundation of the large fortune which the patronage of the Royal Duchess is said to have built up at last. Brian Bellis was therefore lifted far above anything like poverty, and his aunts gave him a trifle for his pocket, as well as his schooling, and were proud of his prominence in the choir of the Octagon Chapel, where on Sundays the sisters always appeared in the latest fashions. Indeed their dress on Sundays was eagerly scanned by ladies of the fashionable congregation as we might scan a fashion-book in these days.
Brian had seen Norah several times with a burden he thought too heavy for her to carry, and he had gallantly taken the basket from her hand and carried it for her.
Those were the days when there was money to pay for marketings, and before the accident happened which had laid her father low. But Brian was not a fair-weather friend, and that meat-pie and bun were not the first that he had bought out of his pocket-money for the now forlorn child.
He was running away to the rehearsal for next Sunday's music, when he jostled against Leslie Travers, who was coming out of the Pump Room.
Brian came to a dead stop, and said respectfully:
"Sir, there is a man and a little girl in great want in Crown Alley; the child was at Mr. Herschel's door last night."