Rather relieved at the interview being over, and feeling as though he would have to go prancing and shouting down the whole length of Long Wharf to give vent to his delight at what Mr. Drummond had said, Terry slipped out of the merchant's sanctum, and found a pleasant-looking young man evidently awaiting him in the office.
"Come in here, Terry," said he, "and tell us your good-luck."
In the fulness of his heart Terry was only too glad to find a confidant, and without reserve he related all that had been said, as well as he could remember it.
"Phew!" whistled the clerk. "You've got on the right side of the old man, and no mistake. No putting you off with a sovereign and a paragraph in the papers. Whatever he says goes, I can tell you. Come along now; I'm to have the pleasure of making a swell out of you."
In some bewilderment as to Mr. Hobart's meaning, Terry obediently accompanied him up to Granville Street, where they entered a gentleman's outfitting establishment, before whose broad plate-glass windows the boy had often stood in covetous appreciation of the fine things so dexterously displayed therein. With an air of easy self-possession that Terry profoundly admired, Mr. Hobart called upon a brilliantly-arrayed clerk to show them their ready-made clothing. They went into the rear part of the shop, and then the purpose of their coming was made clear.
"You're to have a complete outfit of good clothes, Terry," said Mr. Hobart. "And Mr. Drummond, knowing my good taste in such matters, has put the business in my hands, so you'll please be good enough to entirely approve of my selections."
His manner was so kind and pleasant that Terry felt as though there was hardly anything on earth that he would not have been willing to do for him, let alone approving of the benefactions he was the instrument of bestowing.
"Indeed that I will, sir," he responded, with a warmth that made the clerk smile in such a patronizing way that Mr. Hobart cut him short by saying curtly,—
"Well, then, let me see something in the way of pepper-and-salt tweeds."
So the work of fitting Terry out began. Mr. Hobart seemed no less particular than if he were choosing the various articles for his own wardrobe. He had carte-blanche from Mr. Drummond, and the matter of cheapness was not to be taken into account. It all seemed like a beautiful dream to Terry. A fine suit of clothes, that fitted him as though they had been cut to order; a pair of scarlet braces with bright brass clasps such as his heart had often vainly hungered for; three good flannel shirts for week-day wear, and three lovely linen ones for Sabbaths; a sheaf of collars and a roll of cuffs; and, finally, to top it all, a hard felt hat, the like of which had never before been on his head;—one after another were these fine feathers procured, and the money for them paid down from a bundle of notes which Terry, in his ignorance of money in that form, thought must contain at least a thousand pounds.