he is never so pleased as when you ask him the name of his tailor. But
his reply in that case is deprecating, implying that he doesn't think
very much of him, do you? which is intended to draw further reassurance
and compliment. On the other hand, if, inspired by the lustre of their
beautiful polish, you should inquire where he gets his boots, his
expression changes. Although boots are about as near a hobby as he has
ever got, he is distressed about the shape of his feet, and says that his
corns give him a lot of trouble. But he likes to talk about boots, and a
recurring subject of conversation with him is the difficulty of finding a
man who really understands doing them properly. He knows a great deal
about blacking and brushes, and is no mean authority on the art of boning
or polishing or varnishing refractory footgear of all kinds. To look at
him one would think Baxendale has never had a day's illness in his life,
but as a matter of fact he has never been well since any one can
remember. He has always suffered from what one may call ailments, and
when one saw him at the club or in Bond Street he would tell you he was
not quite the thing--he was run down or had lumbago or a bit of a chill
on the liver.

Baxendale is very particular about cooking. He used to complain a good
deal about the food at the club, but after his marriage he said it had
improved, which no one could understand, as the kitchen staff has not
been changed for twenty years. Freddy Catchpole said that once when he
dined with them Mrs. Baxendale asked him about the club cook, because
Gilbert was very dissatisfied with theirs. Servants worried Baxendale
a great deal after he got married. He said they almost made him long for
his bachelor days, when he did not know what domestic cares were.

The Baxendales live in one of those new, well-built houses in the
neighbourhood of Grosvenor Square. It was some time before Baxendale