Roger laughed at the critical way in which Edgar was surveying him, but his colour deepened as he said:
"I shan't have a new one till another winter, that's certain, and perhaps not then; it will all depend—"
"Depend upon what?" asked Edgar inquisitively.
"Upon whether father can afford to buy me one or not," was the frank response.
Edgar was silent for a few moments. Accustomed to possess everything that money could buy, it seemed very dreadful to him that his cousin should not be well clothed. He reflected that Roger and he were much the same height and size, and determined to ask his mother for permission to present him with one of his own overcoats.
"It must be horrid to be poor like that," he remarked; "but, never mind, Roger, I'll see you have another overcoat soon." This was said with a slightly patronising air, though it was kindly meant.
"What do you mean?" Roger demanded quickly.
"I'll give you one of mine."
"I won't have it. I don't want it. I'd rather wear my old one." Roger's tone was distinctly ungrateful, and he appeared vexed. "You'd better mind your own business, Edgar, and let me mind mine."
Edgar looked considerably taken aback. He saw he had annoyed his companion, but he had not the faintest idea how he had done so. However, he was wise enough to let the matter drop.