was keenly sensitive to
any mortification of this kind, and it was a bitter pill for him to
appear in the crowded streets in such a plight. He imagined everybody
he met or overtook was staring at him, and laughing at the figure he
cut, and he wanted to hide his face from their sight. He never went
home from school so fast before; but when he had changed his dress, and
washed the dirt from his hands and face, it was too late to return. In
the afternoon, when he made his appearance at school, he was quite
generally greeted with the significant nickname of "Stick-in-the-mud,"
and had to stand a most remorseless fire of wit, pleasantry, and
ridicule the rest of the day, both at home and in the street.

Oscar thought quite as much as was proper of outward appearances. He
was commendably neat in his personal habits, and was seldom caught with
dirty hands and face, or uncombed hair, or soiled and ragged dress. He
loved to dress well, too, and no amount of persuasion could induce him
to wear a garment, if he fancied it did not set right, or was much out
of fashion, or had an old and patched-up look. In such a case, nothing
but the stern arm of authority was sufficient to overcome his
prejudices.

"There," said his mother one evening, after spending some time over one
of his jackets, which had become a little worn at the elbows; "there,
that will last you a spell longer, and look almost as well as it ever
did, too."

Oscar examined the garment. It was neatly mended, and looked very
well; but his eye rested upon a slight patch upon one of the elbows,
which entirely spoilt it for him, although it had previously been a
favorite garment.

"It's too small for me," he said; "why can't you keep it for Ralph?"

"No, you needn't keep it for Ralph," quickly replied the owner of that
name; "I haven't had anything but your old clothes to wear for a year
or two, and I should think it was my turn to have some of the new ones,
now. Make him wear that out, mother, won't you?"

"Yes, I intend he shall wear it awhile longer," replied Mrs. Preston.
"It looks well enough for any body."

"But see that detestable patch," said Oscar; "I don't want to wear
_that_ to school; folks will think I have borrowed one of Ben. Wright's
old jackets."

Ben Wright was one of Oscar's schoolmates. He was the son of a poor
widow, and was the most be-patched boy in Oscar's class, at the head of
which he stood. As he had nothing to recommend him but