Two young men stood in a bedroom with an entire tailor’s shop spread around them. “For heaven’s sake, Mac,” said the fellow with the mustache.
“What now?” said his brother.
“That jacket. It’s velveteen.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes. In the evening a broadcloth jacket is proper.”
Mac took off the jacket and replaced it with the proper one. He surveyed the effect of it and his low-necked coat and tie in Steve’s mirror. Then he grabbed a boot.
“No, no. If you step on a foot - and I daresay you will - you’ll hurt her toes. Put on the thin boots.”
Mac complied. “And next?” he said, giving up on taking the initiative.
“Gloves. I brought you an old pair of mine, since I didn’t trust you to own a decent pair.”
“They don’t look old.”
“I meant it comparatively. Now for the flower.”
Mac shook his head. “Too dandyish.”
“Just the right amount of dandyish. It’s for Rose.”
“Fine, go ahead. Is that all?”
“Just let me fix your hair and we’ll be done.”
The Worm sighed.