His neck, too, was black up to a well-defined line; the rest of it, and his cheeks, red with the red of prize beef.
"This is the boy--hem--Revel, of whom we were speaking." Miss Plinlimmon smiled at me and blushed faintly as she uttered the name.
"Harry, shake hands with Mr.Trapp.

He has come expressly to make your acquaintance." Somehow I gathered that this politeness took Mr.Trapp aback; but he held out his hand.

It was astonishingly black.
"Pray be seated, Mr.Trapp." "The furniture, ma'am!" "Ah, to be sure!" Mr.Scougall's freshly upholstered chairs had all been wrapped in holland coverings pending his return.

"Mr.Trapp, Harry, is a--a chimney-sweep." "Oh!" said I, somewhat ruefully.
"And if I can answer for your character (as I believe I can)," she went on with a wan, almost wistful smile, "he is ready to make you his apprentice." "But I had rather be a soldier, Miss Plinlimmon!" She still kept her smile, but I could read in it that my pleading was useless; that the decision really lay beyond her.
"Boys will be boys, Mr.Trapp." She turned to him with her air of gentility.

"You will forgive Harry for preferring a red coat to--to your calling." (I thought this treacherous of Miss Plinlimmon.
As if she did not prefer it herself!) "No doubt he will learn in time that all duty is alike noble, whether it bids a man mount the deadly breach or climb a--or do the sort of climbing required in your profession." "I climbed up that spire in my sleep," said I, sullenly.
"That's just it," Mr.Trapp agreed.