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Upon the morrow its lord and master rode forth to Windsor with his eldest son and the best of his followers. There was a great burnishing of arms and grooming and feeding of steeds. Every man was looking up his best riding dress and putting it into spic-and-span order, and the whole place rang with the sound of cheery voices and the clash of steel.

And perhaps who knew? perhaps the spic-and-span chap on the bank, with the sleek coat and black-tipped tail, was one of the kind that didn't like to get his feet wet. Then Paddy Muskrat asked the stranger a silly question. He was not the wisest person, anyhow, in Pleasant Valley, as his wife often reminded him. "You're not a distant relation of Tommy Fox, are you?" he inquired.

This youth was spic-and-span from the Military Academy, with a top-dressing of three months' thoughtful travel in Germany. "I was deeply impressed with the modernity of their scientific attitude," he pleasantly remarked to the commanding officer. For Captain Duane, silent usually, talked at this first meal to make the boy welcome in this forlorn two-company post.

He had a bran-new hat on, a velvet-collared blue coat with metal buttons, that anywhere but in the searching glare and contrast of London might have passed for a spic-and-span new one; a small, striped, step-collared toilanette vest; and the aforesaid drab trousers, in the right-hand pocket of which his disengaged hand kept fishing up and slipping down an avalanche of silver, which made a pleasant musical accompaniment to his monetary conversation.

They'll see my company starting out in a string of motor cars for this place; watch them getting rigged out in their spic-and-span suits of mail, and old-time stuff; feast their eyes on just such wonderful feats as you have seen pulled off beside these massive walls; and step by step, be taken into our confidence as we progress, until finally the amazing climax arrives.

All aglow our spic-and-span trolley cars all our trolley cars are spic-and-span ride down the way like "floats" in a nocturnal parade. Upon the sidewalks are happy throngs, and a hum of cheery sound. The throngs of our neighbourhood are touched with an indescribable character of place; they are not the throngs of anywhere else. They are not exactly Fifth Avenue; they are not the Great White Way.

It seemed a nice, tidy town. The streets were white and clean; the shops, now open, were some of brick, and others of wood. The hotel in which I had slept was a two-storied brick building. Two banks were in the main street, one of them a good building. Everything looked spic-and-span new, very unlike our old-fashioned English country towns.

Then we rounded the headland of Dungeness; and sailing by Rye and Winchelsea, we passed Hastings, renowned in history, a portion, looking old and venerable, joined to the spic-and-span new town of Saint Leonard's. Running past Eastbourne, we arrived off the bold, wild-looking point of Beachy Head.

He was a spic-and-span, intelligent looking man, with less of the dandy about him than the air of a man who had never worn anything but clothes of the proper trim, and become quite used to it. Nevertheless the sweat stood out in drops on his forehead, for Fairfield's front "street" savoured of a less moral region than it really was, on a broiling summer day.

He was extremely spic-and-span in appearance, and wore light-coloured kid gloves. The room was pretty full by that time, and he seemed to have some little difficulty in finding the person whom he sought, but at last he made out Edith and Evadne sitting together, and going over to them, greeted them both, and then took a vacant chair beside them.