Mr. Dawkins looked sharply at his son.
“The result would probably be,” he said, “that the money would be expended in other ways, and I should have to pay for the clothes twice over.”
Dawkins would have indignantly disclaimed this, if he had not felt that he was not altogether sincere in the request he had made.
“No,” continued his father, “I don't like the arrangement you propose. When you need clothing you can go to my tailor and order it, of course not exceeding reasonable limits.”
“But,” said Dawkins, desperately, “I don't like Bradshaw's style of making clothes. I would prefer trying some other tailor.”
“What fault have you to find with Bradshaw? Is he not one of the most fashionable tailors in the city?”
“Yes, sir, I suppose so, but——”
“Come, sir, you are growing altogether too particular. All your garments set well, so far as I can judge.”
“Yes, sir, but one likes a change sometimes,” persisted George, a little embarrassed for further objections.
“Well,” said Mr. Dawkins, after a pause, “If you are so strongly bent upon a new tailor, select one, and order what you need. You can tell him to send in his bill to me.”