The door opened, but no one came in; and outside the voices of the little boy and his nurse were audible.
"I want to show her my new coat."
"You can't, Master Jack. Your Aunt's got a dreadful headache, and can't be disturbed."
No peevish complaints from Jack: only a deep sigh.
"I'm very sorry about her headache; and I'm very very sorry about my coat. For I am going out, and it will never be so new again."
His aunt spoke feebly.
"Nurse, I must see his coat. Let him come in."
Enter Jack.
It was his first manly suit, and he was trying hard for a manly soul beneath it, as a brave boy should. He came in very gently, but with conscious pride glowing in his rosy cheeks and out of his shining eyes. His cheeks were very red, for a step in life is a warming thing, and so is a cloth suit when you've been used to frocks.
It was a bottle-green coat, with large mother-o'-pearl buttons and three coachman's capes; and there were leggings to match. The beaver hat, too, was new, and becomingly cocked, as he stood by his Aunt's bedside and smiled.