But thenceforward no cap was a cap, and
no collar was a collar, which did not exactly conform in shape and
material to certain sacred caps and collars guarded by the young
tailor in his back shop. None knew why these sacred caps and
collars were sacred, but they were; their sacredness endured for
about six months, and then suddenly--again none knew why--they
fell from their estate and became lower than offal for dogs, and
were supplanted on the altar. The type brought into existence by
the young tailor was to be recognized by its caps and collars, and
in a similar manner by every other article of attire, except its
boots. Unfortunately the tailor did not sell boots, and so imposed
on his creatures no mystical creed as to boots. This was a pity,
for the boot-makers of the town happened not to be inflamed by the
type-creating passion as the tailor was, and thus the new type
finished abruptly at the edges of the tailor's trousers.
The man at No. 4, St. Luke's Square had comparatively small and
narrow feet, which gave him an advantage; and as he was endowed
with a certain vague general physical distinction he managed,
despite the eternal untidiness of his hair, to be eminent among
the type.
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