improvement.

There he stood, without hat or gloves.

"I am ready," said he.

"You imp!" I cried; "you've been playing about! What have you been
at all this time? Do you suppose I can present such a scarecrow to
my relations?"

"Emilia," answered the poor dear, very solemnly, "I have washed!"

There was nothing for it but to make him fetch the clothes-brush,
and other implements of torture. Jane and I marched him out into the
hall, and there we prepared the victim. We brushed his clothes, and
straightened his necktie. Even Richard Norton was so excited by the
scene that he fetched the blacking-bottle and polished Gabriel's
boots, whilst Jane acted hairdresser and I held him down by both
hands. This in the midst of so much laughter that the tears stood in
our eyes.

When at last we turned him round for inspection, smooth-haired and
stiff with the consciousness of his respectability, I could have
wept at my own handiwork.

"You poor dear!" I cried. "Oh, Jane, doesn't he look horrible!"

But Gabriel went into the parlour to look at himself in the mirror,
and declared that he pleased himself mightily.