He had been standing back there with some eight or nine
inches of superfluous waistband bunched up in his fist.
The situation was embarrassing, and it would have been still more
embarrassing had I elected to go forth wearing my breeches in their
then state, because, to avoid talk, he would have had to go along
too, walking immediately behind me and holding up the slack. And
such a spectacle, with me filling the tonneau and he back behind
on the rumble, would have caused comment undoubtedly.
That pantsmaker was up a stump! He looked reproachfully at me,
chidingly at the breeches and sternly at the tapemeasure--which
he wore draped round his neck like a pet snake--as though he felt
convinced one of us was at fault, but could not be sure which one.
"I'm afraid, sir," he said, "that your figure is changing."
"I guess you're right," I replied with a soft sigh. "As well as
I can judge I'm not as tall as I was day before yesterday by at
least eighteen inches. And I've mislaid my diaphragm somewhere,
haven't I?"
"'Ave them off, please, sir," he said resignedly. "I'll 'ave to
alter them to conform, sir. Come back to-morrow."
I had them off and he altered them to conform, and I went back on
the morrow; in fact I went back so often that after a while I
became really quite attached to the place. I felt almost like a
member of the firm.
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