"I don't think," I said, "we'll worry about the trousers. I can take them on trust."
"Do you really think so, Sir? It's a difficult leg to fit, you know. Plenty of muscle here and there. Not like some. You set us a task. There's a good deal to contend against in a thigh like yours."
"That's it," I cried with enthusiasm. "You can't do yourself justice unless you've got lots to contend against. I shall make it harder for you if I don't try on, and your triumph will be all the more glorious."
"It's a curious thing," said Mr. Thurgood, looking meditatively at my hands; "I've got just such another patch of darning on my knee," and he pulled up his trouser. "It's funny how you forget to notice a little thing like that."
"In that case," I said, "we will proceed with the trying on," and I removed my hands. "I've got two of them, you see."
"So have I," said Mr. Thurgood. "They generally go together."
R. C. L.
From a story in The Pall Mall Gazette:—
"'Willie was right,' he muttered. 'The evil men do live after them. The good oft lies interred in their bones, but maybe it was only folly with me, not evil.'"