The rig-out and the wig did not arrive at Johnny’s lodgings within the hour as promised, but arrived there within three hours, which was as much as Johnny had expected. It took Johnny nearly an hour to dress, but at last he stood before the plate-glass panel of the wardrobe transformed. Johnny had reason to be pleased with the result. A tall, handsome girl looked back at him out of the glass—a little showily dressed, perhaps, but decidedly chic.
“Wonder if I ought to have a cloak,” mused Johnny, as a ray of sunshine, streaming through the window, fell upon the image in the glass. “Well, anyhow, I haven’t,” thought Johnny, as the sunlight died away again, “so it’s no good thinking about it.”
Johnny seized his reticule and his umbrella and opened cautiously the door. Outside all was silent. Johnny stealthily descended; in the passage paused again. Voices sounded from the basement. Feeling like an escaped burglar, Johnny slipped the latch of the big door and peeped out. A policeman, pasting, turned and looked at him. Johnny hastily drew back and closed the door again. Somebody was ascending from the kitchen. Johnny, caught between two terrors, nearer to the front door than to the stairs, having no time, chose the street. It seemed to Johnny that the street was making for him. A woman came hurriedly towards him. What was she going to say to him? What should he answer her? To his surprise she passed him, hardly noticing him. Wondering what miracle had saved him, he took a few steps forward. A couple of young clerks coming up from behind turned to look at him, but on encountering his answering stare of angry alarm, appeared confused and went their way. It began to dawn upon him that mankind was less discerning than he had feared. Gaining courage as he proceeded, he reached Holborn. Here the larger crowd swept around him indifferent.
“I beg your pardon,” said Johnny, coming into collision with a stout gentleman.
“My fault,” replied the stout gentleman, as, smiling, he picked up his damaged hat.
“I beg your pardon,” repeated Johnny again two minutes later, colliding with a tall young lady.
“Should advise you to take something for that squint of yours,” remarked the tall young lady with severity.
“What’s the matter with me?” thought Johnny. “Seems to be a sort of mist—” The explanation flashed across him. “Of course,” said Johnny to himself, “it’s this confounded veil!”
Johnny decided to walk to the Marble Soap offices. “I’ll be more used to the hang of things by the time I get there if I walk,” thought Johnny. “Hope the old beggar’s in.”
In Newgate Street, Johnny paused and pressed his hands against his chest. “Funny sort of pain I’ve got,” thought Johnny. “Wonder if I should shock them if I went in somewhere for a drop of brandy?”