sted. "His legs are pretty thin. Do you think pipe-stem
legs in short socks, to say nothing of bruises and scratches, really
attractive?"

"You want him to go barefooted a good deal of the time, don't you?"

"Sure. But legs in socks are neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring,
to my thinking."

In spite of the smile on his lips, he looked obstinate and she
deliberated, drawing a white sock unmistakably fine and expensive over
her gray-gloved hand. Plainly she wanted to see Bob in socks and strap
slippers, of the sort her boy would have worn. As she studied the sock
Burns studied her profile. "Get him a pair, for your own satisfaction,"
he conceded.

He did not hear the order she gave, but the saleswoman was pleasantly
smiling as she checked it.

The next thing that happened, Bob was being measured. Then he was trying
on Russian blouse suits that fitted, practical little garments of blue
galatea, of tan-coloured linen crash, even of brown holland. Burns
looked on approvingly. The clothes turned Bob into a gentleman's son, no
doubt of that, but it was the sort of gentleman's son who can have the
very best of romping, good times.

Something diverted Bums's attention for a little, and when he turned
back to Bob a bright scarlet reefer had been pulled on over his blouse,
and a wide sailor hat with a scarlet ribbon crowned his black curls. The
result was engagingly picturesque. But the critic frowned.

"I'm afraid that won't do, Mrs. Lessing," he objected decidedly.

"You don't like the colour? Not with his hair and eyes?"

"It won't hurt his hair, but it will his eyes. The sun on that red will
torture him."

"Will it? I shouldn't have thought of it. So many children wear them."

"And shortly come to spectacles. Try it yourself for half an hour."

She drew off the reefer. Bob objected. "I like the red jacky, Dotter
Burns," he said. It was his first comment. Hitherto he had been in a
dazed state, submitting wonderingly to this strange experience.

Another small coat of tan-coloured cloth with a gorgeous red-and-brown
emblem on the sleeve consoled him:

"I think we are through," said Mrs. Lessing Burns looked at her.

"No white clothes?" he asked.

"Did you want him to have some?"

"No. But I thought you would."

"I have ordered three suits to be made for him," she admitted, flushing
a little. "They will be very plain and will launder beautifully. He will
wear them only on special occasions. Do you mind?