He looked down at his coat and trousers and began to wonder if he were, indeed, worthy to wear them.
"I'm not good enough for them," said he, "but you've put new heart in me, and I shall not give up. I'll wear them as long as I can make them do, and girls can say what they please."
"The magpies!" said Darrel. "When they have a thought for every word they utter, Lord! there'll be then a second Sabbath in the week."
Next evening Trove went to see Polly.
As he was leaving, she held his hand in both of hers and looked down, blushing deeply, as if there were something she would say, had she only the courage.
"What is it, Polly?" said he.
"Will you—will you let me buy you a new hat?" said she, soberly, and hesitating much between words.
He thought a moment, biting his lip.
"I'd rather you wouldn't, Polly," said he, looking down at the faded hat. "I know it's shabby, but, after all, I'm fond o' the old thing. I love good clothes, but I can't afford them now."
Then he bade her good night and came away.