Cale had used discretion, and urged the same upon Tom, in the selection and fashion of his garments, and had sternly discountenanced anything like undue extravagance and foppery.  Tom had insisted upon the Blenheim vest, with its rich flowering on the white satin ground, and its trimming of golden cord; but for the rest he had permitted Cale to select what he would, and was perfectly satisfied with the long coat of claret-coloured cloth, with a modest trimming of gold cord, and turned-back cuffs (showing the white lawn full shirt sleeve beneath), which set off his tall and well-made figure to advantage.  The breeches were of the same cloth, but showed little, as silk stockings were drawn high up over them, almost meeting the vest or waistcoat, which was always long.  He had shoes with high though not extravagant heels, and gilt buckles; a gold cord with tassels adorned his jaunty three-cornered hat; and his girdle and sword belt were of gold silk and cord.

But perhaps Tom was most proud of his periwig—­an addition to his outfit which he had insisted upon rather against the advice of Cale, who had offered to curl and powder his own hair in an imitation of the prevailing mode.  But Tom would not be denied the fashionable peruke.  He had spent the best part of each day seated behind a screen in Cale’s inner shop, listening in a species of fascination and amaze to the talk of the young dandies who daily resorted thither.  Cale told him that he would thus best learn something of the language and gossip of the day, and be better able to hold his own when he went abroad; and Tom already felt that he possessed command of a thousand new epithets and words, to say nothing of the meaningless oaths and blasphemies, which made a part of the stock in trade of every fashionable man’s vocabulary.

And now he stood regarding himself with complaisant satisfaction, feeling that he could ruffle it with the best of them.  He had heard too much talk of periwigs not to feel resolved to wear one himself.  Unless he did so, he felt he should never take his place in the world of fashion.  His natural hair had therefore been cut close to his head, the peruke was fitted on, and fell in bushy curls to his shoulders.

Tom could not forbear a smile as he turned his head this way and that to judge of the effect.  He felt indeed a pretty fellow, prepared to take his share in the drama of life going on about him.

“Harry Gay shall be your companion,” said Cale, who had assisted at the toilet with the interest of a connoisseur, and who did not attempt to disguise his satisfaction at the result.  “Harry is as gay as his name, but he is a well-meaning youth, and will neither rob you himself, nor suffer others to do so without warning you.  He knows London well, and the life has hurt him less than it hurts most.  He is brave without being a bully; he can play, and knows when to stop.  He is afraid of no man, and so he is left alone.  He has a good heart, and is to be trusted; and here he comes in good time to take you under his care.”