It was not necessary, however, that he should go in any particular direction. He decided, therefore, to walk along, keeping a good lookout, and, when he saw a clothing store, to go in and provide a new outfit.
He was sensible that he was by no means dressed in city style. His clothes were coarse, and being cut and made by his aunt—who, though an excellent woman, was by no means an excellent tailor—looked countrified and outlandish.
The first hint Robert had of this was when two well-dressed boys, meeting him, simultaneously burst out laughing.
Robert was sensitive, but he was by no means bashful or timid. Accordingly he stepped up to the boys and demanded with kindling eyes:
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Oh, no, of course not,” answered one of the boys, rolling his tongue in his cheek.
“Certainly not, my dear fellow,” said the other, winking.
“I think you were,” said Robert firmly. “Do you see anything to laugh at in me?”
“Well, to tell the truth,” said the first boy, “we were wondering whether you import your clothes from Paris or London.”
“Oh, that’s it,” said Robert good-humoredly, for he was aware that his clothes were of strange cut. “My clothes were made in the country and I don’t think much of them myself. If you’d tell me where I can get some better ones I will buy a suit.”