"That's his secret--not mine," was the reserved reply.

"Well, I won't ask it, then," Verty said; "I never care to know
anything--there's the tailor's, aint it?"

"Yes, that is the shop of the knight of the shears," replied the
clerk, with elegant paraphrase; "come, let us get on."

They soon reached the tailor's, which was not far from the office, on
the same street; and Mr. O'Brallaghan came forward, scissors in hand,
and smiling, like a great ogre, who was going to snip off people's
heads, and eat them for his breakfast--only to satisfy his hunger, not
from any malevolent feeling toward them. Mr. O'Brallaghan, as his name
intimated, was from the Emerald Isle--was six feet high--had a carotty
head, an enormous grinning mouth, and talked with the national accent.
Indeed, so marked was this accent, that, after mature consideration,
we have determined not to report any of this gentleman's
remarks--naturally distrustful as we are of our ability to represent
the tone in which they were uttered, with any degree of accuracy. We
shall not see him frequently, however, and may omit his observations
without much impropriety.

Mr. O'Brallaghan surveyed Verty's lythe and well-knit figure, clad in
its rude forest costume, with patronizing favor. But when Roundjacket
informed him, with hauteur, that "his friend, Mr. Verty," would give
him an order for three suits:--one plain, one handsome, one very
rich--the great O'Brallaghan became supple and polite; and evidently
regarded Mr. Verty as some young lord, in disguise.

He requested the young man to walk into the inner room, where his