Altogether, when taken in connection with the original idea of its construction, it was a difficult thing to look at it without mirth.

On entering the drawing-room, which Harry did alone--for his mother, having seen Miss Riddle in the parlor, entered it in order to have a preliminary chat with her--her son found a person inside dressed in a pair of red plush breeches, white stockings a good deal soiled, a yellow long-flapped waistcoat, and a wig, with a cue to it which extended down the whole length of his back,--evidently a servant in dirty lively.
There was something _degagee_ and rather impudent in his manner and appearance, which Harry considered as in good keeping with all he had heard of this eccentric nobleman.

Like master like man, thought he.
"Well," said the servant, looking hardly at him, "what do you want ?" "You be cursed," replied Harry; "don't be impertinent; do you think I'm about to disclose my business to you, you despicable menial?
Why don't you get your stockings washed?
But if you wish to know what I want, I want your master." The butler, footman, or whatever he might hive been, fixed a keen look upon him, accompanied by a grin of derision that made the visitor's gorge rise a good deal.
"My master," said the other, "is not under this roof.

What do you think of that ?" "You mean the old cockle is not in his shell, then," replied Harry.
"Come," said the other, with a chuckle of enjoyment, "curse me, but that's good.

Who are you ?--what are you?
You are in good feathers--only give an account of yourself." Harry was a keen observer, but was considerably aided by what he had heard from his mother.