Meantime when left to himself, Arthur changed his mind with regard to
going down into the parlors to see his brother's guests, and, unlocking
the trunk which held his own wardrobe he took out an evening suit fresh
from the hands of a London tailor, and, arraying himself in it, stood
for a moment before the glass to see the effect. Everything was
faultless, from his neck-tie to his boots; and, opening the door, he
went out into the hall, which was empty, except for Harold, who was
sitting near the stairs, half asleep again. Most of the guests were in
the supper-room, but a few of the younger portion were dancing, and the
strains of music were heard with great distinctness in the upper hall.
'Ugh!' Arthur said, with a shiver, as he stopped a moment to listen,
while his quick eye took in every detail of the furniture and its
arrangement in the hall. 'That violinist ought to be hung--the pianist,
too! Don't they know what horrid discord they are making? It brings that
heat back. I believe, upon my soul, I shall have to bathe my face
again.'
Suiting the action to the word, he went back and washed his face for the
third time; then returning to the hall, he advanced toward Harold, who
was now wide awake and stood up to meet him.
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