"Tall or short? dark or fair? Will she kiss you—next time, sir? Will she even be glad to see you again, you presumptuous young dog—will she—will she, confound you?"
"Ah!" sighed Barnabas. "Next time—I wonder!"
So saying, he sighed again, once, twice, and with the third fell fast asleep, and dreamed that a certain White Lion, clad in a Lieutenant-General's uniform, and with a pair of handsome black whiskers, stood balancing himself upon a single claw on the rail of the bed.
CHAPTER XXVI
CONCERNING THE DUTIES OF A VALET—AND A MAN
"And now, Peterby," said Barnabas, pushing his chair from the breakfast table, "the first thing I shall require is—a tailor."
"Very true, sir."
"These clothes were good enough for the country, Peterby, but—"
"Exactly, sir!" answered Peterby, bowing.
"Hum!" said Barnabas, with a quick glance. "Though mark you," he continued argumentatively,—"they might be worse, Peterby; the fit is good, and the cloth is excellent. Yes, they might be a great deal worse."