"I never thought. You see, I started in rather a hurry." The fact was that he had no silk hat, nor could he easily afford to buy one.
"But you should think, my dear boy. Even Clayton was shocked. Are those your best clothes?"
Richard answered that they were. He sheepishly protested that he never bothered about clothes.
There was a silence, broken by her regular stitching. At last she handed him the coat and helped him to put it on. He went to the old green sofa, and somewhat to his dismay she sat down by his side.
"Richard," she began, in a changed, soft voice, and not without emotion, "do you know we are expecting great things from you?"
"But you shouldn't. I'm a very ordinary sort of person."
"No, no. That you are not. God has given you great talents, and you must use them. Poor William always used to say that you were highly gifted and might do great things."
"Might!"
"Yes—if you tried."
"But how am I gifted? And what 'great things' are expected?" he asked, perhaps angling for further flattering disclosures.