"It is—possible, sir," answered Peterby, with another bow. Hereupon, having glanced at his solemn face, Barnabas rose, and surveyed himself, as well as he might, in the tarnished mirror on the wall.
"Are they so bad as all that?" he inquired.
Peterby's mouth relaxed, and a twinkle dawned in his eye.
"As garments they are—serviceable, sir," said he, gravely, "but as clothes they—don't exist."
"Why then," said Barnabas, "the sooner we get some that do,—the better. Do you know of a good tailor?"
"I know them all, sir."
"Who is the best—the most expensive?"
"Stultz, sir, in Clifford Street; but I shouldn't advise you to have him."
"And why not?"
"Because he is a tailor."