So I thought at first blush; but are we so sure?  The separate ingredients are excellent; there couldn’t be a better son than Robert or better tailors than Messrs. Blenkinson.  But how will they blend?  Mind you, I’m not daring to doubt the courtesy and tact of a single Blenkinson; but these views which son Robert is beginning to form, where will they lead him ... and us ... and the Blenkinsons?  Again, I’m not suggesting that Robert will ever go to such lengths in view-forming as to dare to attack such an anciently and honourably established firm as Messrs. Blenkinson; indeed, I could almost wish it might fall out that way, and that they and I might continue, without intervention, upon our present terms of mutual esteem and entire satisfaction.  If things stand so well between us, while I am but young, claiming no higher rank or standing than that of Captain (Temp.), how much more must we flourish when I have risen to those heights to which we know I am bound to reach in my full maturity?  Against such an alliance even the youthful and vigorous Robert would hurl himself and his criticisms in vain.  No, I foresee a danger more subtle and formidable than that.

Some of the very first views that Robert forms will be on the subject of clothes.  His very desire to be perfectly dressed will take him to Blenkinsons’, and, when he has spent two hours trying on the very latest, his desire to get me, at any rate, passably dressed will induce him to say to Mr. Blenkinson, senior:  “I say, can’t you do something to stop the governor wearing clothes like that?”

Blenkinson, having long anticipated and dreaded this, will at once hasten round to the back with the tape-measure; but Robert will catch him when he comes round again and say, “I shouldn’t have believed that you would ever consent to make such clothes as he insists on wearing.”

Blenkinson perforce will smile that deferential and conciliatory smile of his, which seems to say:  “We entirely agree with you, Sir, but it isn’t for us to say so.”

Robert, blown out with conceit, upon being tacitly corroborated by Blenkinsons in a matter of taste, will pursue the subject mercilessly, until his victim is forced into some definite statement.  Looking round to see that he cannot possibly be overheard, Blenkinson, senior, will be led by his too perfect courtesy to commit himself.  “Well, Sir,” he will murmur, “we have on one or two occasions dared to hint that his cut was rather out of date, and would he permit us to alter it in some small particulars?  But Sir Reginald” (or shall we make it “the General"?) “prefers, quite rightly, of course, to decide these things for himself.”

“‘Quite rightly’ be blowed,” Robert will retort.  “We know and he doesn’t.  Can’t you make him understand?  You can sometimes get him to be reasonable, if you stick to him long enough.”

Blenkinson will be quite unable to let his old and honoured customer go entirely undefended or unexcused on so grave an issue.  “We fancy, Sir, that the General” (or shall we say “His Lordship"?) “understands just as well as we do, Sir, but....”