“And now, Mr. Liddel, I must take you with me,” said Tankard. “I've got some arrangements to make with you. If we don't meet before,” he added to Rose and her mother, “I shall see you all at nine this evening—that's understood.”
Rose would have preferred Walter remaining a little longer, but as he promised to come round in the course of the afternoon, she felt quite reconciled to his departure.
Mr. Tankard first took his companion to the shop of Mr. Pledger Dapp, in the York Road. Mr. Dapp, as we have said, was a pastrycook and confectioner, and the numerous good things on the counter looked very tempting at that hour.
Mr. Dapp was delighted to see them, insisted on serving each with a basin of mock-turtle soup, and stood beside them while they discussed it at a small table at the further end of the room.
“Well, is all satisfactorily settled, may I inquire, Mr. Liddel?” he said.
“Yes; all's settled, Dapp,” said Tankard, answering for his friend. “The very livery is ready!”
“Indeed!” cried Walter, looking up in surprise. “Has it appeared by magic?”
“I've not yet had time to enter into details,” rejoined Tankard; “but when I saw Higgins this morning, he told me Lady Thicknesse had left the arrangements entirely to him, so we had only to talk them over together; and it was then agreed that he should come to my house this evening, where he could have an opportunity of meeting you, and judge for himself, though he entertained no doubt, from description, that you would suit.”
“So far good,” remarked Walter. “But about the livery?”
“You shall hear,” replied the other. “It seems that Charles Brownlow, the late footman, who was as near as possible your height and figure, was discharged at a moment's notice for impertinence. His livery, no doubt, will fit you.”