Begging Walter to take off his coat, and flinging a loose gown over his shoulders, and giving him a napkin to protect his eyes, Sigebert set to work, and carefully powdered the young man's fine brown locks, pausing ever and anon in his task.
At length, he exclaimed, as he laid down the powder-puff:
“Now you'll do, sir—now you'll do! What do you think of the effect, Mr. Tom?” he added, appealing to our fat friend.
“Hum!” cried Tom, without delivering an opinion. “Wants a little more at the back, don't it?”
“Not a particle! Couldn't be better!” said Sigebert. “Now, let me help you on with your coat,” he added to Walter.
And having thus aided in arraying him, he exclaimed, in affected admiration:
“Why, you're quite a picture, sir! You eclipse the finest of the Court lacqueys! You'd get a first-rate place, if you wanted!”
“That he would!” laughed Tom. “What's the damage, Sigebert?”
“Would five shillings be too much?” said the coiffeur, with a droll expression. “It's half a crown for a real footman!”
“Well, here's a crown,” replied Walter.