With some difficulty Tommy got into the coat, which was several sizes too small for him, and only by dint of holding his breath could he get the buttons to go into the holes prepared for them.
He felt that if he was compelled to undergo any unusual exertion, the buttons would fly off like bullets from a rifle when the trigger falls.
"Shall I do?" he asked.
"First-rate," replied Bobsey. "You looks a A No. 1 Buttons, and no mistake."
Tommy hastened upstairs to answer the ringing of the bell, which summoned him to the parlor where Mr. and Mrs. Floyd were seated, the young gentlemen being in the schoolroom indulging in half an hour's conversational recreation before prayers, which preceded their retirement to their dormitories.
Entering the parlor, he inquired:
"Did you ring, sir?"
"Ah—h'm," replied the Rev. C. Floyd. "This is very good. He'll do, my dear; I think, though, the coat is a little tight for him. Yes, I did ring. You are putting too much coal on the fire downstairs. It makes our chimney smoke."
"I wish he could stop our chimney; the nasty thing chokes me," remarked Mrs. Floyd.
"I'll see what can be done," answered Tommy.