At the end of six weeks from the date of Robert's departure, Harry had been paid eighteen dollars. Of this sum he had spent but one dollar, and kept the balance in his pocketbook. He did not care to send it home until ho had enough to meet Squire Green's demand, knowing that his father would be able to meet his ordinary expenses.
``See how the fellow dresses,'' said Luke Harrison to two of his companions. ``His clothes are shabby enough, and he hasn't got an overcoat at all. He hoards his money, and is too stingy to buy one.''
``You'd rather get trusted for your clothes than do without them,'' said Frank Heath, slyly.
``What if I do,'' said Luke sharply, ``as long as I am going to pay for them?''
``Oh, nothing,'' said Frank.
By this time Harry had come up.
``Where are you going, Walton?'' asked Luke.
``Left your overcoat at home, didn't you?''
Harry colored.
``I did not leave it at home, for I have none to leave.''
The tailor, Merrill by name, had a shop over the dry goods store, and thither Harry directed his steps. There was one other person in the shop, a young fellow but little larger than Harry, though two years older, who was on a visit to an aunt in the neighborhood, but lived in Boston. His name was Maurice Tudor. He had gone into the shop to leave a coat to be repaired.
``How are you, Walton?'' he said.
``Pretty well, thank you.''
``It's pretty cold for October.''
``Yes, unusually so.''
``Mr.
Merrill,'' said Harry, ``I should like to inquire the price of an overcoat.''
``This is the cheapest goods I have,'' said the tailor, pointing to some coarse cloth nearby. ``I can make you up a coat from that for eighteen dollars.''
``Eighteen dollars!'' exclaimed Harry. ``Is that the cheapest you have?''
``The very cheapest. I might take off a dollar for cash. I've got enough of running up bills. There's Luke Harrison owes me over thirty dollars, and I don't believe he means to pay it at all.''
``If I
buy, I shall pay cash,'' said Harry, quietly.
Maurice Tudor was a silent listener to this dialogue. He lingered after Harry went out, and said:
``That's a good fellow.''
``Harry Walton?'' repeated the tailor. ``Yes, he's worth a dozen like Luke Harrison.''
``He is rather poor, I suppose.''
``Yes.
The boys call him mean; but Leavitt tells me he is saving up every cent to send to his father, who is a poor farmer.''
``That's a good thing in him.''
``Yes, I wish I could afford to give him an overcoat. He needs one, but I suppose seventeen dollars will come rather hard on him to pay. If young Walton wants to get an overcoat on credit, I shan't object. I judge something by looks, and Iam sure he is honest.''
``Well, good-night, Mr. Merrill. You'll have my coat done soon?''
``Yes, Mr. Tudor. It shall be ready for you tomorrow.''
Maurice Tudor left the tailor's shop, revolving a new idea which had just entered his mind. Now he remembered that he had at his home in the city an excellent overcoat which he had worn the previous winter, but which was now too small for him. As well as he could judge by observing Harry's figure, it would be an excellent fit for him. Why should he not give it to him?
On his way home he overtook our hero, walking slowly, plunged in thought. In fact, he was still occupied with the problem of the needed overcoat.
``Good-evening, Harry,'' said young Tudor.
``Good-evening, Mr. Tudor,'' answered Harry; ``are you going back to the city soon?''
``In the course of a week or two. Mr. Leavitt's son is in a store in Boston, is he not?''
``Yes.
I have taken his place in the shop.''
``So I
hear. How do you like your new business?''
``Very well. I think I should like better to be in a printing office, but I am glad to get a chance in a shoeshop.''
``I saw you at Merrill's this evening.''
``Yes;
I was pricing an overcoat.''
``I
bought this one in Boston just before I came away. I have a very good one left from last winter, but it is too small for me. It is of no use to me. If Ithought you would accept it, I would offer it to you.''
Harry's heart gave a joyful bound. Here was his great need supplied, and without expense.
``Accept it!'' he repeated. ``Indeed I will, and thank you for your great kindness.''
``Then I will write home at once to have it sent to me. I also have a suit which Ihave outgrown; if you wouldn't be too proud to take it.''
``I am not so foolish,'' said Harry. ``It will be a great favor to me.''
``I
thought you would take it right,'' said Maurice. ``I will also send for the suit.''
Three days later a large bundle, wrapped in brown paper, was brought by the village expressman to Mr. Leavitt's door.
``A
bundle for you, Walton,'' said the expressman, seeing Harry in the yard.
Harry ran forward and received it.
``What is there to pay?'' he asked.
``Nothing,'' was the answer. ``It was prepaid in the city.''
Harry took it up to his room, and opened it eagerly. First came the promised overcoat. It was of very handsome French cloth, with a velvet collar, and rich silk facings, far higher in cost than any Mr. Merrill would have made for him.
Would it fit? That was a question he tested immediately by trying it on. It fitted as if it had been made for him. Next came, not one, but two complete suits.
After supper Harry, arrayed in his best suit, and wearing the overcoat, walked down to the center of the village.
