"Tight? What do you mean? I suppose they're six and a quarter?"
"Oh, yes, they're six and a quarter. But don't you think it might have been better to have kept the original six and a half for the sake of the additional ease?"
"Ease? You don't want ease in a glove."
"No? That's rather a novel point of view. Do you want it to be uneasy, then?"
"A properly fitting glove never is uneasy. You are possibly not aware that a new glove always is a little difficult to get on the first time."
"Yes--so it seems."
Something in his tone annoyed me, particularly the impertinent suggestion which I felt sure it was intended to convey. I gave an angry try at the glove, and, behold! it split. I know I went crimson all over. Mr Sanford laughed outright.
"When you try to cram a quart into a pint pot something is bound to go."
A ruder remark I had never had addressed to me. My own brothers could not have been more vulgar. Even they had never compared my hand with either a quart or a pint pot. An observation of that kind it was impossible that I should condescend to notice. Removing the glove, with all the dignity at my command, I replaced it in the box.
"I think that I had better wear a pair of gloves which have become adapted to the unfortunate conformation of my hands."