eap stitching into them, and was, upon the whole, an
honest tradesman.

From 9.30 to 5.15 were Mr. Neefit's hours; but it had come to be
understood by those who knew the establishment well, that from
half-past twelve to half-past one the master was always absent. The
young man who sat at the high desk, and seemed to spend all his time
in contemplating the bad debts in the ledger, would tell gentlemen
who called up to one that Mr. Neefit was in the City. After one it
was always said that Mr. Neefit was lunching at the Restaurong. The
truth was that Mr. Neefit always dined in the middle of the day at a
public-house round the corner, having a chop and a "follow chop," a
pint of beer, a penny newspaper and a pipe. When the villa at Hendon
had been first taken Mrs. Neefit had started late dinners; but that
vigilant and intelligent lady had soon perceived that this simply
meant, in regard to her husband, two dinners a day,--and apoplexy.
She had, therefore, returned to the old ways,--an early dinner for
herself and daughter, and a little bit of supper at night. Now,
one day in June,--that very Saturday on which Sir Thomas Underwood
brought his niece home to Fulham, the day after that wicked kiss on
the lawn at Fulham, Ralph Newton walked into Neefit's shop during the
hour of Mr. Neefit's absence, and ordered,--three pair of breeches.
Herr "Bawwah," the cutter, who never left his board during the day
for more than five minutes at a time, remained, as was his custom,
mute and apparently inattentive; but the foreman came down from his
perch and took the order. Mr. Neefit was out, unfortunately;--in the
City. Ralph Newton remarked that his measure was not in the least
altered, gave his order, and went out.

"Three pair?--leather?" asked Mr. Neefit, when he returned, raising
his eyebrows, and clearly showing that the moment was not one of
unmixed delight.

"Two leather;--one cord," said the foreman. "He had four pair last
year," said Mr. Neefit, in a tone so piteous that it might almost
have been thought that he was going to weep.

"One hundred and eighty-nine pounds, fourteen shillings, and nine
pence was the Christmas figure," said the foreman, turning back to a
leaf in the book, which he found without any difficulty. Mr. Neefit
took himself to the examination of certain completed articles which
adorned his shop, as though he were anxious to banish from his
mind so painful a subject. "Is he to 'ave 'em, Mr. Neefit?" asked