went to the window and looked down, craning his neck to see over the balcony.
“’Tis a coach arrived, sir.”
“That much had I gathered,” replied my lord, busy with the powder.
“Yes, sir. O lord, sir!” He was shaken with laughter.
“What now?”
“’Tis the curiousest sight, sir! Two gentlemen, one fat and t’other small! One’s all shrivelled-looking, like a spider, while t’other———”
“Resembles a hippopotamus—particularly in the face?”
“Well yes, sir. He do rather. And he be wearing purple.”
“Heavens, yes! Purple, and an orange waistcoat!”
Jim peered afresh.
“So it is, sir! But how did ye know?” Even as he put the question, understanding flashed into Jim’s eyes.
“I rather think that I have had the honour of meeting these gentlemen,” replied my lord placidly. “My buckle, Jim… Is’t a prodigious great coach with wheels picked out in yellow?”
"Ay, your honour. The gentlemen seem a bit put out, too.”
“That is quite probable. Does the smaller gentleman wear somewhat—ah—muddied garments?”
“I can’t see, sir; he stands behind the fat gentleman.”
“Mr. Bumble Bee. … Jim!”
“Sir!” Jim turned quickly at the sound of the sharp voice.
He found that my lord had risen, and was holding up a waistcoat of pea-green pattern on a bilious yellow ground, between a disgusted finger and thumb. Before his severe frown Jim dropped his eyes and stood looking for all the world like a schoolboy detected in some crime.
