'
'You'll bust the seams! You'll split the buttons! See what's in the
pockets!' cried several voices, while he shifted to and fro like a man
about to fight.
'It may stretch,' he said hopefully. 'I think I can use it. It's just
what I want.' He glanced up at his wife whose face, however, was
relentless.
'Maybe,' replied the practical mother, 'but it's more Edward's build,
perhaps.' He looked fearfully disappointed, but kept it on. Edward got
the best of every box. He went on with the unpacking, giving the coat
sly twitches from time to time, as he pulled out blouses, skirts,
belts, queer female garments, boots, soft felt hats--the green Homburg
he put on at once, as who should dare to take it from him--black and
brown Trilbys, shooting-caps, gaiters, flannel shirts, pyjamas, and
heaven knows what else besides.
The excitement was prodigious, and the floor looked like a bargain
sale. Everybody talked at once; there was no more pretence of keeping
order Mlle. Lemaire lay propped against her pillows, watching the
scene with feelings between tears and laughter. Each member of the
family tried on everything in turn, but yielded the treasures
instantly at a word from Mother--'That will do for so and so; this
will fit Monkey; Jimbo, you take this,' and so on.
The door into the adjoining bedroom was for ever opening and shutting,
as the children disappeared with armfuls and reappeared five minutes
later, marvellously apparelled.
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