en! What's the darling wish of your heart? I know it, sir!
you've told it to Mr. Tressle, sir, and other gents at the club. The
darling wish of your heart, sir, is to have a slap-up coat turned out of
the ateliers of Messrs. Linsey, Woolsey and Company. You said you'd give
twenty guineas for one of our coats, you know you did! Lord Bolsterton's
a fatter man than you, and look what a figure we turn HIM out. Can any
firm in England dress Lord Bolsterton but us, so as to make his Lordship
look decent? I defy 'em, sir! We could have given Daniel Lambert a
figure!"

"If I want a coat, sir," said Mr. Eglantine, "and I don't deny it,
there's some people want a HEAD OF HAIR!"

"That's the very point I was coming to," said the tailor, resuming the
violent blush which was mentioned as having suffused his countenance
at the beginning of the conversation. "Let us have terms of mutual
accommodation. Make me a wig, Mr. Eglantine, and though I never yet cut
a yard of cloth except for a gentleman, I'll pledge you my word I'll
make you a coat."

"WILL you, honour bright?" says Eglantine.

"Honour bright," says the tailor. "Look!" and in an instant he drew
from his pocket one of those slips of parchment which gentlemen of his
profession carry, and putting Eglantine into the proper position, began
to take the preliminary observations. He felt Eglantine's heart
thump with happiness as his measure passed over that soft part of the
perfumer's person.

Then pulling down the window-blind, and looking that the door was
locked, and blushing still more deeply than ever, the tailor seated
himself in an arm-chair towards which Mr. Eglantine beckoned him, and,
taking off his black wig, exposed his head to the great perruquier's
gaze. Mr. Eglantine looked at it, measured it, manipulated it, sat
for three minutes with his head in his hand and his elbow on his knee,
gazing at the tailor's cranium with all his might, walked round it twice
or thrice, and then said, "It's enough, Mr. Woolsey. Consider the job
as done. And now, sir," said he, with a greatly relieved air--"and now,
Woolsey, let us 'ave a glass of curacoa to celebrate this hauspicious
meeting."

The tailor, however, stiffly replied that he never drank in a morning,
and left the room without offering to shake Mr. Eglantine by the hand:
for he despised that gentleman very heartily, and himself, too, for
coming to any compromise with him, and for so far demeaning himself as
to make a co