He requested the young man to walk into the inner room, where his artist would take his measure; and this Verty did at once.

Imagine his surprise at finding himself in the presence of—­Mr. Jinks!

Mr. Jinks, no longer clad in elegant and martial costume, redolent equally of the ball-room and the battle-field—­no longer moving majestically onward with wide-stretched legs, against which his warlike sword made dreadful music—­no longer decorated with rosettes, and ruffles, and embroidery; but seated on the counter, in an old dressing-gown, with slipper’d feet and lacklustre eyes, driving his rapid needle through the cloth with savage and intrepid spirit.

Verty did not recognize him immediately; and Mr. Jinks did not observe the new comers either.

An exclamation from the young man, however, attracted his attention, and he started up.

“Mr. O’Brallaghan!” cried the knight of the needle, if we may so far plagiarize upon Roundjacket’s paraphrase—­“Mr. O’Brallaghan! this is contrary to our contract, sir.  It was understood, sir, that I should be private, sir,—­and I am invaded here by a route of people, sir, in violation of that understanding, sir!”

The emphasis with which Mr. Jinks uttered the various “sirs,” in this address, was terrible.  O’Brallaghan was evidently daunted by them.

“You know I am a great artist in the cutting line, sir,” said Mr. Jinks, with dignity; “and that nobody can do your fine work but me, sir.  You know I have the right to mature my conceptions in private, sir,—­and that circumstances of another description render this privacy desirable, sir!  And yet, sir, you intrude upon me, sir,—­you intrude!  How do you do, young man?—­I recognize you,” added Mr. Jinks, slightly calmed by his victory over O’Brallaghan, who only muttered his sentiments in original Gaelic, and bore the storm without further reply.

“I will, for once, break my rule,” said Mr. Jinks, magnanimously, “and do for this gentleman, who is my friend, what I will do for no other.  Henceforth, sir, recollect that I have rights;” and Mr. Jinks frowned; then he added to Verty, “Young man, have the goodness to stand upon that bench.”

O’Brallaghan and Roundjacket retreated to the outer room, where they were, soon after, joined by Verty, who was laughing.

“Well,” muttered the young man, “I will not tell anybody that Mr. Jinks sews, if he don’t want it to be known—­especially Miss Sallianna.  I reckon he is right—­women don’t like to see men do anything better than them, as Mr. Jinks says.”

And Verty began to admire a plum-colored coat which was lying on the counter.

“I like this,” he said.

O’Brallaghan grew eloquent on the plum-colored coat—­asserting that it was a portion of a suit made for one of his most elegant customers, but not sent for.  He could, however, dispose of it to Mr. Verty, if he wished to have it—­there was time to make another for the aforesaid elegant customer.