Mr. Jordan was fain to confess that although he was not thinking about an evening suit—whatever such an article of attire might be—he did not think he had got an evening suit.
“Own up, if you haven’t,” said Mr. Dodson. “It is nothing to be ashamed of. Some chaps might think so, but I am not the least bit snobbish myself. Own up and I shall not think the worse of you.”
Upon this encouraging assurance the young man inquired if there was any substantial difference between an evening suit and an ordinary night-gown in which one went to bed.
When in all good faith the young man sought this information, he and his mentor chanced to be passing the brightly-illumined window of a Fleet Street tailor. Mr. James Dodson stopped abruptly. With great earnestness he peered into his companion’s wan and troubled countenance. For the first time in their intercourse the bona fides of William Jordan, Junior, were seriously called in question.
“If I thought you were trying it on with me, Luney, my son,” said Mr. Dodson, with that truculence which he always seemed to hold in reserve for instant use; “if I thought you were pulling my leg, I should hit you as hard as I used to before I knew you spoke Greek. But no, Luney,” Mr. Dodson added, with a sigh of relief, as he continued to peer into that strange and pale countenance, “you haven’t got it about you to try it on with me.”
In an admirably practical fashion Mr. James Dodson proceeded there and then to demonstrate what an evening suit really was by pointing out that article of attire as displayed on a dummy in the tailor’s window.
“There you are, my son, there it is, all complete with a white tie and patent leather shoes,” he said, indicating this mirror of fashion and mould of form.
William Jordan, Junior, confessed without shame or confusion that he had neither an evening suit, nor a white tie, nor a pair of patent leather shoes in his possession.
“If such is really the case,” said Mr. Dodson, “your up-bringing has been disgracefully neglected. I don’t know what your people can have been about; but it can be remedied. My young cousin Harry is about your size, although he is a good deal fatter; I shall get him to lend you his. Fortunately he has not been asked to the party; he is only a junior clerk in the insurance, and I thought he could be kept until the eleventh hour in case any of the swells dropped out. I expect he will be only too proud to lend you his suit, although you will have to get a couple of tucks put in the waistcoat and trousers.”
The next day, however, Mr. Dodson had to confess that as far as his cousin Harry was concerned his expectations were disappointed.