Jim looked the samples over carefully, but had little to say as to their adaptation to Colonel Woodruff’s sartorial needs. Jennie laid great stress on the excellent quality of one or two samples, and carefully specified the prices of them. Jim exhibited no more than a languid and polite interest, and gave not the slightest symptom of ever having considered even remotely the contingency of having a tailor-made suit. Jennie sidled closer to the subject.
“I should think it would be awfully hard for you to get fitted in the stores,” said she, “you are so very tall.”
“It would be,” said Jim, “if I had ever considered the matter of looks very much. I guess I’m not constructed on any plan the clothing manufacturers have regarded as even remotely possible. How about this county fair idea? Couldn’t we do this next fall? You organize the teachers——”
Jennie advanced the spark, cut out the muffler and drowned the rest of Jim’s remarks in wind and dust.
“I give it up, dad,” said she to her father that evening.
“What?” queried the colonel.
“Jim Irwin’s clothes,” she replied. “I think he’ll go to Ames in a disgraceful plight, but I can’t get any closer to the subject than I have done.”
“Oh, then you haven’t heard the news,” said the colonel. “Jim’s going to have his first made-to-measure suit for Ames. It’s all fixed.”
“Who’s making it?” asked Jennie.
“Gustaf Paulsen, the Dane that’s just opened a shop in town.” “A Dane?” queried Jennie. “Isn’t he related to some of the neighbors?”