ody cares."

"I'd be awfully obliged if you'd tell me what's wrong," said John,
humbly.

"Everything's wrong," said the Caterpillar, decisively. He looked
critically at John's boots. "Your boots, for instance--most excellent
boots for wading through the swamps in the New Forest, but quite
impossible in town. And the 'topper' you wear on Sunday! Southampton,
you say? Ah, I thought it was a Verney heirloom. Now, it wouldn't
surprise me to hear that your mother, who dresses herself quite
charmingly, bought your kit."

"She did," John confessed.

"Just so. One need say no more. Now, you come along with me."

They marched down the High Street to the most fashionable of the School
tailors, where John was measured for an Eton jacket of the best, white
waistcoat with blue spots, light bags; while the Caterpillar selected a
new "topper," an umbrella, a pair of gloves, and a tie.

"Be _very_ careful about the bags," said the Caterpillar. "They are
cutting 'em in town a trifle tighter about the lower leg, but loose
above. You understand?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Egerton," replied the obsequious snip. "What we call the
'tighto-looso' style, sir."

"I don't think they call it that in Savile Row," said the Caterpillar;
"but be careful."

The tailor was assured that he would receive an order properly signed by
Mr. Rutford. And then John was led to the bootmaker's, and there
measured for his first pair of patent-leathers. The Caterpillar was so
exhausted by these labours that a protracted visit to the Creameries
became imperative.

"You've always looked like a gentleman," said the Caterpillar, after his
"dringer," "and it's a comfort to me to think that now you'll be dressed
like one."

So John went up to town looking very smart indeed; and Fluff (who had
ordered a similar kit) whispered to John at luncheon that his brothers,
the Etonians, had expressed surprise at the change for the better in
their general appearance.

This luncheon was eaten on the top of the duke's coach, and it happened
that the next coach but one belonged to Scaife's father. John could just
see Scaife's handsome head, and Caesar sitting beside him. The boys
nodded to each other, and the Etonians asked questions. At the name of
Scaife, however, the young Kinlochs curled contemptuous lips.

"Unspeakable bounder, old Scaife, isn't he?" they asked; and the duchess
replied--

"My dears, his cheques are honoured to any amount, even if _he_ isn't."

Her lau