Harry looked down at himself proudly.
"My mother made that," he said, "that's my bestest frock. She made it ages ago, but she wouldn't never let me wear it."
Jim's eyes filled and he turned hastily to the window that Jane might not perceive it.
"Don't you part with that frock, Jane," he said.
Jane snorted.
"Tea's ready!" she said ungraciously.
The meal was about half through when she started a new subject.
"Where's the brat's bed?" said she.
"His bed?" repeated Jim, helplessly.
"His bed," she reiterated, "I suppose you thought he'd share the baby's cradle!"