“Oh, thank you,” said the gratified dude. “You’re awfully kind. My friends think I have a little taste in dress.”
“My friends never paid me that compliment,” said Obed. “Say, how do you like my fit out?”
“I—I don’t think they have very good tailors in Australia,” said Clinton hesitatingly.
“Have you as many pairs of trousers as ever, Mr. Clinton?” asked Harry.
“I have only nineteen, Mr. Vane, but I shall order some more soon.”
“Nineteen pairs of breeches!” ejaculated Obed in amazement. “What in the name of Jehoshaphat do you want of so many?”
“Well, I don’t want to have people get used to seeing me in the same trousers, don’t you know, so every day I wear a different pair.”
“It must cost a mint of money to buy so many clothes.”
“Oh, I have accounts with four or five tailors. They’re willing to wait, don’t you know. They appreciate a gentleman’s custom.”
“How long do they wait?” asked Harry.