wn
clothes, shabby as they were, for a suit which had already been worn by
somebody else, it was a part of my plan to offer no unnecessary
objection. Besides, it must be confessed that, in his quiet way, Mr.
Parsons had succeeded in filling me with something very like terror. In
a manner, he seemed like a volcano, looking perfectly harmless, and even
pleasant, but yet capable of a terribly dangerous eruption.

The shopman brought out an armful of clothes, and the second jacket I
tried was only a trifle too small. In less than a quarter of an hour I
had taken off my own suit and put on in its place an ordinary suit of
Etons, such as we all wore on Sundays at Castlemore. Although obviously
far from new, it was not in very bad condition; but the hat, which had a
soiled lining, required to be filled in with paper to prevent it from
coming down over my eyes. Mr. Parsons sold my old suit (it could
scarcely have fetched a very high price), and paid the difference to the
shopman, who, I observed, examined the money, coin by coin, with close
attention.

'Now,' said Parsons, as we walked in the direction of Edgware Road, 'you
look a little more genteel.'

We entered a cheap hosier's shop next, and there he bought me a white
shirt, two wide Eton collars, and a dark tie, all of which I carried
home in a brown-paper parcel.

So far the morning had been passed harmlessly, if unpleasantly, for I
continued to resent the second-hand suit, and especially the hat, and
now we walked direct back to the house. After a meal, of which the less
said the better, Mr. Parsons took me into his own bedroom, telling me to
change my shirt and look sharp about it. When I had put on the white
shirt, a wide collar, and the new necktie, I returned to the front room,
but was sent into the passage to fetch the tall hat.

In the front room I found Mr. and Mrs. Loveridge, as well as a
rough-looking man whom I had not seen before. Mr. Parsons placed his
hand on my shoulders, and turned me round and round as if he were proud
to show the change he had affected in my appearance.

'Won't he do beautiful?' he cried, excitedly. 'Did ever you set eyes on
a nicer, genteeler-looking lad? Don't he take the cake?'

They all began to laugh, evidently with approval, while I bit my lips
and tried to look as if I also liked it, although I think it was one of
the worst minutes of my life.

'Well,' said Loveridge, 'we shall see what we get for our money.'

Mrs. Love