Here a waiter announces, in a loud voice, "Sir Thomas de Boots," and the
General enters, scowling round the room according to his fashion, very
red in the face, very tight in the girth, splendidly attired with a
choking white neckcloth, a voluminous waistcoat, and his orders on.
"Stars and garters, by jingo!" cries Mr. Frederick Bayham; "I say,
Pendennis, have you any idea, is the Duke coming? I wouldn't have come in
these Bluchers if I had known it. Confound it, no--Hoby himself, my own
bootmaker, wouldn't have allowed poor F. B. to appear in Bluchers, if he
had known that I was going to meet the Duke. My linen's all right,
anyhow;"
F. B. breathed a thankful prayer for that. Indeed, who but the very
curious could tell that not F. B.'s, but C. H.'s--Charles Honeyman's--was
the mark upon that decorous linen?
Colonel Newcome introduced Sir Thomas to every one in the room, as he had
introduced us all to each other previously, and as Sir Thomas looked at
one after another, his face was kind enough to assume an expression which
seemed to ask, "And who the devil are you, sir?" as clearly as though the
General himself had given utterance to the words.
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