“Just see what has happened to my new suit!”
“Have you torn your jacket?”
“No, it’s not torn,” he said, coming into the room. “It is worse than that. I’m afraid it is ruined. Look! Look!”
“Why, child,” exclaimed Mrs. Duwell, “how did this happen? Let us go into the bathroom to wipe off a little of the mud. That may prevent stains.”
She hardly knew the mud-splashed boy who stood before her, so very unlike the spick and span Wallace of the morning.
“Well, dear, don’t worry too much,” she said. “We will see what the tailor can do for us.”
“Do you suppose he can make it clean enough for me to wear?” asked the boy eagerly.
“I think that he can make it look very well,” said his mother. “Put on your other suit and we will take this one around to the tailor’s shop. But you haven’t told me what happened.”
“Why, it was this way: I was chasing some of the boys, and just as I reached the corner an automobile came speeding out of West Street. It skidded into the curb, and splashed the mud over me from head to foot. The whole thing happened in less than a minute. You ought to have heard the boys laugh!”