“You will soon. See, as it stands now Pitchfork is without a decent suit he can wear, and he’s such a peculiar build that no other professor’s garments will fit him.”
“Well?”
“Well, when he wants his dress-suit to go to the blow-out to-night, he’s going to learn something new.”
“What’s that?”
“Just this. That dress-suits come high this time of the year! It’s going to be the best joke yet. Now, ladies and gentlemen, with your kind permission and attention I will endeavor to give you a correct imitation of Professor Pitchfork hunting high and low for his glad rags—particularly high. I will roll back my cuffs, to show you that I have nothing concealed up my sleeves. Now, commodore, a little slow music, please,” and Sid, who had assumed the rôle of a vaudeville performer, pretended to nod to an imaginary leader of an orchestra.
[CHAPTER XXV]
TOM IN A GAME
“Want any help?” asked Tom, when Sid had outlined his scheme of “revenge.”