"You can wear what you like," said the lady of the house, "so long as you don't wear what you've got on."
"Well," I said with dignity, "I'm not the man to insult an old friend. I shall wear this suit, and, what's more, I shall get my hair cut, too."
"That's right; get yourself cropped like a convict."
"You ought to be proud," I said, "to have a husband who's got any hair to crop. Some husbands are quite bald."
"And some want to look as if they were quite bald."
"Very well," I said, "I will give up the hair-cutting. Next week you shall see me in love-locks for the rest of my life."
I then went up-stairs and changed into patent leather boots, black tail coat and all that is necessarily associated with a black tail coat. This costume I completed with a top hat extracted from its dim and dusty lair, a dark overcoat, a walking-stick and a pair of gloves. Thus attired I set out for the station.
In the garden I found the junior members of the family gathered together to escort me. When they saw me they assumed an air of profound solemnity and doffed imaginary hats in my honour.
"He's got his Londons on after all," said Peggy, thus lightly alluding to my serious garments.
"Will his lordship deign to take my humble arm?" said Rosie.