be led by his too perfect courtesy to commit himself. "Well, Sir," he
will murmur, "we have on one or two occasions dared to hint that his
cut was rather out of date, and would he permit us to alter it in
some small particulars? But Sir Reginald" (or shall we make it "the
General"?) "prefers, quite rightly, of course, to decide these things
for himself."

"'Quite rightly' be blowed," Robert will retort. "We know and he
doesn't. Can't you make him understand? You can sometimes get him to
be reasonable, if you stick to him long enough."

Blenkinson will be quite unable to let his old and honoured customer
go entirely undefended or unexcused on so grave an issue. "We fancy,
Sir, that the General" (or shall we say "His Lordship"?) "understands
just as well as we do, Sir, but...."

"But what?" Robert would exclaim, a little exasperated to hear it
suggested in his presence that I understand anything.

Mr. Blenkinson, senior, will rub his chin, wondering very much whether
he is justified in allowing himself to go so far as to hint at the
truth in this instance. "But--er--well, Sir," will be extracted from
him at last, "we gather--er--we gather, Sir--er'm--her Ladyship
insists."

I see Robert's face clear and I hear him say in quite a different
tone, "Oh, I'll soon manage mother for you." And off he trots home,
and in a week or less I have to adopt his ridiculously ugly, obviously
impracticable and damnably uncomfortable fashions--tight trousers and
high collars, no doubt.