“What’s the matter, Mr. Ferdinand?” asked the Prophet, following that functionary’s eyes. “Ha! He’s not dressed!” “No, sir!” “Mr. Sagittarius,” cried the Prophet, “you’re not dressed!” “Sir,” cried that gentleman, “do you dare to accuse me of impropriety in a frock coat?” “No, no. But for dinner. You can’t possibly dine like that!” “I have dined like this, sir, for the last twenty years. The architects and their wives--” “I daresay. But unluckily there will be no architects and their wives at dinner to-night. Please stand up.” “Sir?” “Kindly stand up. Mr. Ferdinand!” “Yes, sir.” “Place your back against this gentleman’s if you please--touching, touching! Don’t wriggle away like that. Keep your heels to the ground while I fetch a sheet of notepaper. Don’t move your heads either of you. I thought so. You’re pretty much the same height. Mr. Ferdinand, you will lay out a white shirt and one of your black dress suits in my dressing-room at once. Madame, I regret that we must leave you for a few moments. Will you rest here? Allow me to place a cushion for your head. And here is Juvenal in the original.” So saying, the Prophet hurried Mr. Sagittarius from the room, driving Mr. Ferdinand, in a condition of elephantine horror, before him, and abandoning Madame to an acquaintance with the classics that she had certainly never achieved in the society of the renowned Dr. Carter. CHAPTER XVII MALKIEL THE SECOND IS MISTAKEN FOR A RATCATCHER “If you tremble like that, of course it must look too big!” exclaimed the Prophet to Mr. Sagittarius, a quarter of an hour later. “Draw it in at the back.” Mr. Sagittarius, with shaking hands, drew in the waistcoat of Mr. Ferdinand, which hung in folds around his thin and agitated figure. “That’s better,” said the Prophet. “They won’t notice anything odd. But you’ve turned up your--Mr. Ferdinand’s trousers!” “They’re too long, sir. You braced them too low for--” “I braced them low on purpose,” cried the Prophet in great excitement, “to cover the spats, since you can’t get on Mr. Ferdinand’s boots. Kindly turn them down.” “As to the spats, sir, the architects and their wives--” “Mr. Sagittarius,” exclaimed the Prophet, “I think it right to inform you that if you mention the architects and their wives again, I may very probably go mad. I don’t say I shall, but I will not answer for myself. Have the goodness to turn them down and follow me.” Mr. Sagittarius obeyed, and followed the Prophet from the room with a waddling gait and a terrible sensation of having nothing on. The coat and trousers which he wore flapped about him as he descended the stairs in the wake of the Prophet, glancing nervously about him and starting at the slightest sound. In the library they found Madame, holding the great Juvenile upside down and looking exceedingly cross.