He
is naturally of a sanguine disposition. All drapers have to be,
or else they could never have the faith they show in the beauty,
washability, and unfading excellence of the goods they sell you.
The decision comes at last. "That'll do me very well," said Mr.
Hoopdriver, terminating the pause.
The die is cast.
The shop-walker makes a note of it and goes on to Briggs in the
"dresses," the next in the strict scale of precedence of the
Drapery Emporium. Mr. Hoopdriver in alternating spasms anon
straightens his gingham and anon becomes meditative, with his
tongue in the hollow of his decaying wisdom tooth.
III
At supper that night, holiday talk held undisputed sway. Mr.
Pritchard spoke of "Scotland," Miss Isaacs clamoured of
Bettws-y-Coed, Mr. Judson displayed a proprietary interest in the
Norfolk Broads. "I?" said Hoopdriver when the question came to
him. "Why, cycling, of course."
"You're never going to ride that dreadful machine of yours, day
after day?" said Miss Howe of the Costume Department.
"I am," said Hoopdriver as calmly as possible, pulling at the
insufficient moustache. "I'm going for a Cycling Tour. Along the
South Coast."
"Well, all I hope, Mr. Hoopdriver, is that you'll get fine
weather," said Miss Howe. "And not come any nasty croppers."
"And done forget some tinscher of arnica in yer bag," said the
junior apprentice in the very high collar. (He had witnessed one
of the lessons at the top of Putney Hill.)
"You stow it," said Mr.
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