Look at your socks, too, all coming down over the tops of your boots! Nasty dirty pink and green stripes! There's another thing about my collar, too," he continued, speaking with renewed earnestness as he appreciated his senior's stupefaction.

"It was clean yesterday, and that's more than yours was--or the day before!" Burton shivered as he finally turned away from that looking-glass.

The expression upon his face was indescribable.
"I am sorry I spoke, Clarkson," he apologized humbly.

"It certainly seemed to have slipped my memory that I myself--I can't think how I managed to make such hideous, unforgivable mistakes." "While we are upon the subject," his subordinate continued, ruthlessly, "why don't you give your fingernails a scrub sometimes, eh?
You might give your coat a brush, too, now and then, while you are about it.

All covered with scurf and dust about the shoulders! I'm all for cleanliness, I am." Burton made no reply.