"But I don't intend they shall look like this on your way to the ladder," she answered.
"All right," I said "then let me have them. I'll do it myself."
"Have you shaved?" she asked.
I rubbed my hand over my chin. It wasn't very bad and I'd made up my mind I wouldn't shave every day now.
"No," I said. "But twice or three times a week—"
"Billy!" she broke in, "that will never do. You're going down to your new business looking just as ship-shape as you went to the old. You don't belong to that contractor; you belong to me."
In the meanwhile the boy came in with my heavy boots which he had brushed clean and oiled. There was nothing left for me to do but to shave and I'll admit I felt better for it.
"Do you want me to put on a high collar?" I asked.
"Didn't you find the things I laid out for you?"
I hadn't looked about. I'd put on the things I took off. She led me back into the bed room, and over a chair I saw a clean change of underclothing and a new grey flannel shirt.