36 THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
the first time since his return from the under-regions, sur- veyed the medley of garments upon it.
The light-hearted philanthropist, watching his face, saw it instantly change to darkness, like a tropical landscape. His own face grew white. The Schnorrer uttered an inarticulate cry, and turned a strange, questioning glance upon his patron.
"What is it now? " faltered Grobstock.
" I miss a pair of pantaloons ! "
Grobstock grew whiter. " Nonsense ! nonsense ! " he muttered.
" I — miss — a — pair — of — pantaloons ! " reiterated the Schnorrer deliberately.
"Oh, no — you have all I can spare there," said Grob- stock uneasily. The Schnorrer hastily turned over the heap.
Then his eye flashed fire ; he banged his fist on the dressing-table to accompany each staccato syllable.
"I — miss — a — pair — of — pan — ta — loons ! " he shrieked.
The weak and ductile donor had a bad quarter of a minute.
" Perhaps," he stammered at last, " you — m — mean — the new pair I found had got accidentally mixed up with them."
" Of course I mean the new pair ! And so you took them away ! Just because I wasn't looking. I left the room, thinking I had to do with a man of honour. If you had taken an old pair I shouldn't have minded so much ; but to rob a poor man of his brand-new breeches ! "
" I must have them," cried Grobstock irascibly. " I have to go to a reception to-morrow, and they are the only pair I shall have to wear. You see I — "
