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He's a'most as bad as your own father, Mr. Moggs." "You have done his work to-day. You have earned your bread. You owe him nothing." "That I don't, Mr. Moggs. He'll take care of that." "And yet you are to stay away from this place, or go to that, to suit his pleasure. Are you Neefit's slave?" "I'm just the young man in his shop, that's all."
She had just been told all this accursed story about Polly Neefit. I'll never forgive Sir Thomas, never." The reader will be pleased to remember that Sir Thomas did not mention Miss Neefit's name, or any of the circumstances of the Neefit contract, to his niece. "He could hardly have wished to set her against you." "I don't know; but he must have told her.
Neefit's prices were undoubtedly higher than those of any other breeches-maker in London, and that he had refused to supply breeches for the grooms of a Marquis because the Marquis was not a hunting man, the riding men of the City flocked to him in such numbers, that it became quite a common thing for them to give their orders in June and July, so that they might not be disappointed when November came round.
That borrowing of money from Mr. Neefit was doubtless bad. No one would like to know that his son had borrowed money from his tailor. But it is the borrowing of the money that is bad, rather than the special dealing with the tradesman. And as to that affair with Polly, some excuse may be made. He had meant to be honest to Neefit, and he had meant to be true to Neefit's daughter.
Neefit, as was the practice with many favourite customers, and immediately went to work in regard to his new order, as though every Christmas and every Midsummer saw an account closed on his behalf in Mr. Neefit's books. "I did say just now, when I found you were out, that last year's lines would do; but it may be, you know, that I'm running a little to flesh." "We can't be too particular, Mr.
Brownlow's little tea-party Ralph Newton was bound by appointment to call upon Sir Thomas. But before he started on that duty a certain friend of his called upon him. This friend was Mr. Neefit. But before the necessary account of Mr. Neefit's mission is given, the reader must be made acquainted with a few circumstances as they had occurred at Hendon.
Mr. Neefit was a prosperous man, but he had his troubles. Now, it was a great trouble to him that some sporting men would be so very slow in paying for the breeches in which they took pride! Mr. Neefit's fortune had not been rapid in early life. He had begun with a small capital and a small establishment, and even now his place of business was very limited in size.
You always did spoil me; didn't you, father?" Then Polly kissed Mr. Neefit's bald head; and Mr. Neefit, as he sat in the centre of his lawn, with his girdle loose around him, a glass of gin and water by his side, and a pipe in his mouth, felt that in truth there was something left in the world worth living for.
"I'm blessed if it ain't true," said Waddle, convinced by the repetition of his own reading. News had previously reached the shop that the Squire had had a fall. Tidings as to troubles in the hunting-field were quick in reaching Mr. Neefit's shop; but there had been no idea that the accident would prove to be fatal. Neefit, when he went home that night, told his wife and daughter.
There is a baldness that is handsome and noble, and a baldness that is peculiarly mean and despicable. Neefit's baldness was certainly of the latter order. Now Moggs senior, who was grey and not bald, was not bad looking, at a little distance. His face when closely inspected was poor and greedy, but the general effect at a passing glance was not contemptible.
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