Page:Pratt portraits - sketched in a New England suburb (IA prattportraitssk00full).pdf/172

 "I must say, Anson," said the sharp voice, "I must say that I was mortified to see you going to church this morning in your old winter overcoat. When I've been at you for a month o' Sundays about getting a new one. Why on earth do you keep putting it off?

"I don't want a new overcoat," said Anson, quietly.

"You don't want a new overcoat? Well, you'd ought to be ashamed of yourself if you don't. That's all I can say. They wasn't a man in the middle aisle that looked as shabby as you did. If I was you I'd try and scare up a little self-respect jest for the sake of appearances."

"The overcoat's as warm as it ever was," said Anson, slowly and stubbornly. "And what I want an overcoat for is warmth. When I begin to feel cold in it I'll get another."

"Yes! and till it lets the wind through, you'll go about looking like what folks call you—an old miser!"

Jane Bennett shot a sidewise glance at her son, to note the effect of the word. To her chagrin it had apparently no effect whatever. Dr. Bennett ate his dinner with unimpaired relish, and looked ready for a change of subject. The son sat at the side of the table, and not opposite his mother, as would have seemed natural. It was characteristic of Anson, though few credited him with the finer sensibilities, that he never had been able to