When, oh when, would his new clothes be ready?
He descended into the Mall to inquire; and Mrs. Hauksbee, coming over the
Church Ridge in her 'rickshaw, looked down upon him approvingly. "He's
learning to carry himself as if he were a man, instead of a piece of
furniture, and"--she screwed up her eyes to see the better through the
sunlight--"he is a man when he holds himself like that. Oh blessed Conceit,
what should we be without you?"
With the new clothes came a new stock of self-confidence. Otis Yeere
discovered that he could enter a room without breaking into a gentle
perspiration--could cross one, even to talk to Mrs. Hauksbee, as though rooms
were meant to be crossed. He was for the first time in nine years proud of
himself, and contented with his life, satisfied with his new clothes, and
rejoicing in the friendship of Mrs. Hauksbee.
"Conceit is what the poor fellow wants," she said in confidence to Mrs.
Mallowe. "I believe they must use Civilians to plough the fields with in Lower
Bengal. You see I have to begin from the very beginning--haven't I? But you'll
admit, won't you, dear, that he is immensely improved since I took him in
hand. Only give me a little more time and he won't know himself."
Indeed, Yeere was rapidly beginning to forget what he had been.
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