“Dinner at seven. Fletcher will show you the way to the dining-room. Until then, au revoir!” and the girl disappeared into the log-house, while Fletcher escorted Steele to a building near by and ushered him into a sumptuous bedroom facing the lake. On the bed was laid out a suit of evening clothes and all that pertained to it.
“I think you will find this about your size, sir. If not, I can get you one larger or smaller, as you wish.”
“Good gracious!” said Steele, “do you keep a clothing store out here in the backwoods?”
“Well sir, for a country ‘ouse situated as this is——”
“So far from London, eh?”
“Why, yes, sir, we are very well stocked, sir. And now sir, if you’d like a hair-cut, or your beard trimmed——”
“What! do you employ a barber, too? Thank Heaven!”
“Well, sir, you see, I used to be servant to General Sir Grundy Whitcombe, of the British Army, sir, and they do be particular.”
“Do you mean to hint you can shave me, Fletcher, and cut my hair?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”