“Well, to tell the truth, Augusta,” said poppa, “I would.  I’d like to get this measure through by a unanimous vote.  It will save complications afterwards.  But are you sure you wouldn’t rather lie down?”

Momma replied to the effect that she wouldn’t mind his going anywhere else alone, but this was important.  She put her gloves on as she spoke, and her manner expressed that she was equal to any personal sacrifice for the end in view.

Colonel Bramley had given the Senator a sartorial address of repute, and presently the hansom drew up before it, in Piccadilly.  We went about as a family in one hansom for sociability.

“Look here, driver,” said poppa through the roof, “have we got there?”

The cabman, in a dramatic and resentful manner, pointed out the number with his whip.

“There’s the address as was given to me, sir.”

“Well, there’s nothing to get mad about,” said poppa sternly.  “I’m looking for Marcus Trippit, tailor and outfitter.”

“It’s all right, sir.  All on the brass plite on the door, sir.  I can see it puffickly from ’ere.”

The cabman seemed appeased, but his tone was still remonstrative.

We all looked at the door with the brass plate.  It was flanked on one side by the offices of a house agent, on the other by a superior looking restaurant.

“There isn’t the sign of a tailor about the premises,” said poppa, “except his name.  I don’t like the look of that.”

“Perhaps,” suggested momma, “it’s his private address.”

“Well, I guess we don’t want to call on Marcus, especially as we’ve got no proper introduction.  Driver, that isn’t Mr. Trippit’s place of business.  It’s his home.”

We all craned up at the hole in the roof at once, like young birds, and we all distinctly saw the driver smile.

“No, sir, I don’t think ’e’d put it up like that that ’e was a tyler, not on ’is privit residence, sir.  I think you’ll find the business premises on the fust or second floor, likely.”

“Where’s his window?” the Senator demanded.  “Where’s his display?  No, I don’t think Marcus will do for me.  I’m not confiding enough.  Now, you don’t happen to be able to recommend a tailor, do you?”

“Yes, sir, I can take you to a gentleman that’ll turn you out as ’andsome as need be.  Out ’Ampstead way, ’e is.”

The Senator smiled.  “About a three-and-sixpenny fare, eh?” he said.

“Yes, sir, all of that.”

“I thought so.  I don’t mind the three and sixpence.  You can’t do much driving where I come from under a dollar; but we’ve only got about twenty-four hours for the British capital altogether, and I can’t spare the time.”

“Suppose he drives along slowly,” suggested momma.

“Just so.  Drive along slowly until you come to a tailor that has a shop, do you see?  And a good-sized window, with waxwork figures in it to show off the goods.  Then let me hear from you again.”