She drew off the reefer. Bob objected. “I like the red jacky, Dotter Burns,” he said. It was his first comment. Hitherto he had been in a dazed state, submitting wonderingly to this strange experience.
Another small coat of tan-coloured cloth with a gorgeous red-and-brown emblem on the sleeve consoled him:
“I think we are through,” said Mrs. Lessing Burns looked at her.
“No white clothes?” he asked.
“Did you want him to have some?”
“No. But I thought you would.”
“I have ordered three suits to be made for him,” she admitted, flushing a little. “They will be very plain and will launder beautifully. He will wear them only on special occasions. Do you mind?”
“Well, not on those conditions,” he agreed reluctantly.
They went to a shoe shop, and Bob became the richer for leather sandals, canvas shoes, and various other footwear, some of it undeniably fine. Burns took one little black slipper into his hand.
“I wonder what Bob's grandmother would say to that,” he observed in a whisper.