ace until he was
almost upon the Sergeant, then he reined up in full career and was
himself on terra firma almost in the same instant.

"Ha, Zeb," he sighed, drooping in modish languor, "split me, but I'm
glad to see that square phiz o' thine, 'tis positive tanic after
London, I vow! How goeth rusticity, Zeb?"

"As well as can be expected, my lord!"

"And the Major?"

"As well as can be hoped, sir, what with devils, apparations,
witchcraft, magic, sorcery and hocus-pocus, m' lud!"

"Gad save my perishing soul!" exclaimed the Viscount, "What's it all
mean, Zeb?"

"Well, Master Pancras sir, it do mean--nay, yonder cometh his honour to
tell you himself, mayhap." Saying which, Sergeant Zebedee led the
Viscount's horse away to the stables while his lordship, knocking dust
from his slender person, went to greet the Major.

"Sir," said he as they clasped hands, "'tis real joy to see you again,
but pray discover me the why and wherefore of the gruesome nightmare?"
and he shook reproachful head at the Ramillie coat.

"'Tis easy, Tom, old and comfortable, d'ye see, while my new ones are
so--so plaguy fine and overpowering as 'twere, so to speak, that I feel
scarce worthy of 'em. So I--I treasure 'em, Tom, for--for great
occasions and the like----"

"A grave fallacy, nunk! Modish garments must be worn whiles the
prevailing fashion holds--to-day they are the mode, to-morrow, the
devil! Fashion, sir, is coquettish as woman or weathercock, 'tis for
ever a-veering, already there is a new button-hole."

"Indeed, Tom! Egad you stagger me!"

"Cansequently sir, being a dutiful nephew, I took thought to order you
three more new suits--

"The devil you did!"

"Having special regard to this new button-hole, sir----"

"These will make nine o' them!" sighed the Major.

"Your pardon, sir, exactly thirty-one, neither more or less!"

"Good God, Tom!" ejaculated the Major, halting on the terrace-steps to
stare h is amazement, "Thirty-one of 'em? How the deuce----"

"Cut aslant, d'ye see, nunky, and arabesqued with lace of gold or
silver----"

"But, nephew--a Gad's name, what am I to do with so many--d'ye take me
for a regiment? 'Tis 'gainst all reason for a man to wear thirty-one
suits of----"

"Sir, I allude to button-holes!"

"Thank heaven!" murmured the Major.

"Moreover sir, there is, late come in, a new cravat--a poorish thing
with nought to commend it save simplicity. It seems you throw it round
your nec