These had a broad brown stripe down the sides, and were shaped out over the foot of his fine French-polished paper boots, the heels of which were decorated with long-necked, ringing spurs.

Thus attired, with a little silver-mounted whip which he kept flourishing about, he encountered Mr.
Sponge in the entrance-hall, after breakfast.

Mr.Sponge, like all men who are 'extremely natty' themselves, men who wouldn't have a button out of place if it was ever so, hardly knew what to think of Jawleyford's costume.
It was clear he was no sportsman; and then came the question, whether he was of the privileged few who may do what they like, and who can carry off any kind of absurdity.

Whatever uneasiness Sponge felt on that score, Jawleyford, however, was quite at his ease, and swaggered about like an aide-de-camp at a review.
'Well, we should be going, I suppose,' said he, drawing on a pair of half-dirty, lemon-coloured kid gloves, and sabreing the air with his whip.
'Is Lord Scamperdale punctual ?' asked Sponge.
'Tol-lol,' replied Jawleyford, 'tol-lol.' 'He'll wait for _you_, I suppose ?' observed Sponge, thinking to try Jawleyford on that infallible criterion of favour.
'Why, if he knew I was coming, I dare say he would,' replied Jawleyford slowly and deliberately, feeling it was now no time for flashing.

'If he knew I was coming I dare say he would,' repeated he; 'indeed, I make no doubt he would: but one doesn't like putting great men out of their way; besides which, it's just as easy to be punctual as otherwise.