“Your father may fail.”
“The moon may be made of green cheese,” retorted James, loftily. “How about the clothes? Are you going to show them?”
“I think not,” said Herbert.
“A parcel of rags, I suppose,” said James, with a sneer.
“Not quite so bad as that,” responded Herbert, good-naturedly. “Still, I think I shall hardly venture to wear any of them without alteration.”
“I wouldn't wear second-hand clothes,” remarked James Leech, in his usual amiable tone.
“Perhaps you would if you were poor,” said Herbert, quietly.
“But I am not poor.”
“Fortunately for you.”
“Then you won't show the clothes? I suppose they look as if they were made in the year one.”