oger's _magnum opus_.
And not over my dead body shall you wear after December twelfth a
tartan-cravat." (Jerry fingered at the gay bit of ribbon at his neck.)
"If you will remember, our friend Ruskin said that the man who wears a
tartan-cravat will most surely be damned."

As you will observe. Jack Ballard exactly defined sophistication, root
and branch. But his sophistries were always colorful and ornamental
and of course Jerry laughed.

"I'll take your word for it, Uncle Jack," he said. "But you know I
rather like color."

"Of course, in a rainbow, my boy. But in a cravat--no! The cravat is
the chevron of gentility. You shall see. Symphonies in browns and
gray-greens! I'll make you a heart-breaker."

"Why do you put such rubbish in his head, Ballard?" I said testily.

"Because he's got quite enough essential matter there already," he
laughed. "For ten years you've been packing him with facts. I have a
feeling that if one only shook Jerry a little, he would disgorge them
all--dates of battles, maxims, memorabilia of all sorts, a
heterogeneous mess. He's full to the brim, I tell you, and ready to
explode. Suppose he did! How would you like to be hit in the midriff
by an apothegm of Cicero, or be hamstrung by the subjunctive
pluperfect of an irregular French verb?"

Jerry was laughing immoderately, though I admit such blackface
pleasantry appealed little to my sense of humor. But I found myself
smiling. "Surely you don't expect to avert this catastrophe by
providing Jerry with a new cravat?" I urged.

"That is precisely what I _do_ expect," he said. "You've had your
fling at him, Pope. I'm going to have mine. Tomorrow a tailor will
arrive, also a haberdasher and a bootmaker. Jerry will be measured
from top to toe. The mountain is coming to Mahomet."

"Let's be sure no mouse is born," I said dryly.

"Six feet two of country mouse," he roared. "Oh, Pope, don't you
worry. We'll show you a thing or two, won't we, Jerry?"

The tailor, the haberdasher and the bootmaker came, saw and measured,
while Jack sat in the background, with a sheaf of plates of men's
clothing in his lap, and gave directions. Jerry must have felt a great
deal like a fool during the operation for I'm sure he looked one. But
Ballard had his way and not until night did he leave us to peace and
our own devices.

The time for the boy's emergence approached, alas, too quickly. A
change had come over the spirit of Jerry's dreams. I saw that he was