Carlos sat up and stared at the outfit which the facetious Jack held toward him. It consisted of a blue-jean costume, similar to that worn by the trainmen, save that this was clean, if faded, and was one Jack had outgrown.
“Nonsense!”
“Her name is Letitia, if it’s Mrs. Burnham you’re mentioning.”
Carlos sprang up and put on his stockings and moccasins, but failed to find his leggins.
“I want to dress. What have you done with my clothes?”
“I told you the truth. My mother has them. Wait. She shall speak for herself. Mother!”
“Yes, Jack!”
“Isn’t this boy to put on my old clothes? He says he won’t.”
“Dear lady! I never!” he cried, indignantly, to the person without, who answered, promptly:
“For the present, Carlos, it will be better if you wear the things I left for you. After breakfast I will explain. I’m going to cook it now, so please don’t delay,” returned the voice from without.