Eglantine jumped up and made for the bell-rope. The gallant little
tailor laughed.

"There's no need to call in Betsy," said he. "I'm not a-going to
eat you, Eglantine; you're a bigger man than me: if you were just
to fall on me, you'd smother me! Just sit still on the sofa and
listen to reason."

"Well, sir, pro-ceed," said the barber with a gasp.

"Now, listen! 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."