THE HAPPY HYPOCRITE
Not so, however. His lordship came straight towards the mask-shop. Once he glanced up at the Signora’s window and looked deeply annoyed when he saw her sitting there. He came quickly into the shop.
“I want the mask of a saint,” he said.
“Mask of a saint, my lord? Certainly!” said Mr. Aeneas, briskly. “With or without halo? His Grace the Bishop of St. Aldreds always wears his with a halo. Your lordship does not wish for a halo? Certainly! If your lordship will allow me to take his measurement”
“I must have the mask today,” Lord George said. “Have you none ready-made?”
“Ah, I see. Required for immediate wear,” murmured Mr. Aeneas, dubiously. “You see, your lordship takes a rather large size.” And he looked at the floor.
“Julius!” he cried suddenly to his assistant, who was putting the finishing touches to a mask of Barbarossa which the young king of Zürremburg was to wear at his coronation the following week. “Julius! Do you remember the saint’s mask we made for Mr. Ripsby, a couple of years ago?”
“Yes, sir,” said the boy. “It’s stored upstairs.”
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