The Tailor of Gloucester

THE TAILOR OF GLOUCESTER


In the time of swords and periwigs and full-skirted coats with flowered
lappets--when gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of
paduasoy and taffeta--there lived a tailor in Gloucester.

He sat in the window of a little shop in Westgate Street, cross-legged on
a table, from morning till dark.

All day long while the light lasted he sewed and snippeted, piecing out
his satin and pompadour, and lutestring; stuffs had strange names, and
were very expensive in the days of the Tailor of Gloucester.

But although he sewed fine silk for his neighbours, he himself was very,
very poor--a little old man in spectacles, with a pinched face, old
crooked fingers, and a suit of thread-bare clothes.

He cut his coats without waste, according to his embroidered cloth; they
were very small ends and snippets that lay about upon the table--"Too
narrow breadths for nought--except waistcoats for mice," said the tailor.

[Illustration]

One bitter cold day near Christmastime the tailor began to make a coat--a
coat of cherry-coloured corded silk embroidered with pansies and roses,
and a cream coloured satin waistcoat--trimmed with gauze and green
worsted chenille--for the Mayor of Gloucester.

[Illustration]

The tailor worked and worked, and he talked to himself. He measured the
silk, and turned it round and round, and trimmed it into shape with his
shears; the table was all littered with cherry-coloured snippets.

"No breadth at all, and cut on the cross; it is no breadth at all; tippets
for mice and ribbons for mobs! for mice!" said the Tailor of Gloucester.

When the snow-flakes came down against the small leaded window-panes and
shut out the light, the tailor had done his day's work; all the silk and
satin lay cut out upon the table.

[Illustration]

There were twelve pieces for the coat and four pieces for the waistcoat;
and there were pocket flaps and cuffs, and buttons all in order. For the
lining of the coat there was fine yellow taffeta; and for the button-holes
of the waistcoat, there was cherry-coloured twist. And everything was
ready to sew together in the morning, all measured and sufficient--except
that there was wanting just one single skein of cherry-coloured twisted
silk.

The tailor came out of his shop at dark, for he did not sleep there at
nights; he fastened the window and locked the door, and took away the key.
No one lived there at night but little brown mice, and they run in and out
without any keys!

[Illustration]

For behind the wooden wainscots of all the old houses in Gloucester, there
are little mouse staircases and secret trap-doors; and the mice run from
house to house through those long narrow passages; they can run all over
the town without going into the streets.

But the tailor came out of his shop, and shuffled home through the snow.
He lived quite near by in College Court, next the doorway to College
Green; and although it was not a big house, the tailor was so poor he only
rented the kitchen.

He lived alone with his cat; it was called Simpkin.