"Now clap on a dicer," said the Gutter Pup approvingly, "and she'll come up and feed from your hand."
"Are you really in love?" said Dennis softly.
Stover, ignoring all comments, tied a white satin four-in-hand with forget-me-not embossings, which had struck his fancy in Fatty Harris' room, and inserted a stick-pin of Finnegan's.
"You ought to have a colored handkerchief to stick in your breast pocket," said the Gutter Pup, who began to yield to the excitement.
"Up his sleeve is more English, don't you know," said Dennis.
Stover stood brazenly before the mirror, looking himself over. The scrubbing he had inflicted on his face had left red, shining spots in prominent places, while his hair, slicked back and plastered down, gave him somewhat the look of an Italian barber on a Sunday off. He felt the general glistening effect without, in his innocence, knowing the remedy.
"Dink, you are bee-oo-tiful!" said Dennis.
"Be careful how you sit down," said the Tennessee Shad, thinking of the trousers.
"How are the shoes?" asked the Gutter Pup solicitously.
"Tight as mischief," said Dink, with a wry face.