BILL'S CLOTHES.

Press, Volume LX, Issue 11753, 30 November 1903, Page 2

BILL'S CLOTHES.

Bt n*"* SUnt—s (Author ot " Oomin' Thro' the Byre," *c.) Bill bounced in his chair. "The drossmaker is coming again to-morrowT" he naid ; -why, she is hardly ever out of the house! Do I have a tailor working here days together for mc?" "It might bo a good job if you did,' said Mrs Bradbury, nodding significantly. . "Look at _ie!" cried Bill, as he stood up, revolving slowly before her for most dissatisfied inspection. "Two-pounds-ten inclusive I gave for this suit—while you—" "But look at the difference between us!' paid Jlrs Bradbury cruelly. "Don't you know that, good looks are letters of introduction—that 'you are leoeived according to yonr appearance, and taken leave ol according to your deserts,' 'that manners make the man,' and a man* brains are usually illuminated, or extinguished to the onlooker by the shine or shade of his tile, that 'to be poor is a misfortune, but to look it, is n. crime"; how many more truism* must. I fit» off to convince you that your two-pound-ten suit is a gliastly failure, and that the dressmaker who turns mc out is a good investment?" Bill was not a person to be routed easily, but. he wa* to a certain extent crestfallen a* he seated himself in his chair. lb flashed di&agreeably across him t' it for all his undoubted position, hi* friends fought shy of him in the street, and looked another way when he met them at one of his brief visits to tho Park, whilo in the dress-suit he had been wearing for tho last fifteen years he had so constantly been handed empty coffee-cups, and requested hy arrogant persona to fetch their hat*, or call a cab, that he had got into one or two firstclass rows in consequence. He remembered that when ho had to catch a train, the porters invariably opened a third-class carnage door for him, that beggars never ran after him out-of-doors (this was a distinct boon), and that the women he condescended to admire when he went abroad, did nob appear to admire him—quite the contrary indeed. "And cheap cloth, is an abomination," •aid Mra Bradbury, who ha,d unerringly followed the working of her spouse's mind, "and two cheap suits cost more than a single good one. 'Cheap and nostv' —it's a Site proverb. I buy good materials, and they last for ever; it's a sin to put good work into bad stuff, and never pays—it costs just as much to make up rubbish a* what will wear well, and I've had the luck to find a Frenchwoman who fits perfectly, and actually goes out to work, yet you grumble at her—when I should be a diagrace, not a credit to you without her." Bill was silent. He hoped that hi* wife would not notice that hi* vaunted suit of clothes was already wearing greasy at the seams, though lie had only had it a week.

"Worse than that," she went on, "your credit, your temper, and your pocket Buffer equally. No person can possibly be at his best who is not quite at his ease about his appearance—he should do the best posaible for himself in that way—then forget it; but the ill-dressed man or woman will be reminded at every turn of his or her shortxx>mings. Your very friends—ea totally apart from your acquaintances—like yov. better when you are a credit to them than the reverse, and the poorest one you've got sufferis or gains in his surroundings by tl figure you cut when you go to see nim 1 In short, you are either an affront to him or a consolation." "And if people can't take mo as I am, they may go to the devil fc«r all I care," said Mr Bradbury, goaded into bad language at last by what ho knew to bo the truth. "Where they will probably 'find you," said Mm Bradbury neatly. "Only a millionaire could afford to drees an you do. *To him that hath shall be given,' and not one of your rich relations would dream of leaving you a penny. I don't say live beyond your I do say make as good an appearance as you can on it, and try to make an agreeable unit in this ghastly, neutral-tinted crowd that paces unendingly throughout the piece. "I hate loud colours," said Bill. "So do I—yet I never Bee the crowd edging the towing path, boat-race day, or spreading itself in those meetings in the Park, without thinking— Where every prospect plesees \ And man alone is vile I Think: of what ft crowd in the East mes_t —of the beauty, the gorgeopsaesa of it!" "And think of the Dyer's bills,"' eaid Mr Bradbury drily, "and how nice our purple and scarlet vestments would look 'n a London fog. We should look fine in Mincing Lane tripping over our cloaks from Tyre and Sidon." "Yes, Bill,* you would. Any scrap of colour or brightness th_b you can contribute to any place you are in is a step towards brightening up our corner of this dull earth. God is Love, Ood is Light, God is Colour, and everything alive should try and be as bright and beautiful as it knows how."

"Very good_ my dear. When I meet you oat in a ruby gown, a blue cloak, and a magenta, feather, I shall know you are sacrificing yourself to your scheme of beautifying the world." "You will never see that. You might even find mc in a black dress—hut I should have some one pure bit of colour somewhere—a flower, if. possible, that should cheer every eye that saw itr-just as only knowing ft was there would make mc happy. "Well, thank God," said Mr Bradbury, "I never felt like that. To be clean and tkly, that's all I want." "Now you've got really good bluo eyes," said his wife, meditatively; "and they cry out for a bit of colour somewhere—a little dark blue in your stock, for instance, or a button-hole with some blue in it—yep you put on a hard black tie, and if you ever are beguiled with a flower you invariably choose a red one or a whit* one!" Bill smoked, and looked pleased. He had forgotten that ftis eyea were blue, and be liked Rose to notico it, and began to remember that when he wa« making love to her he had been most particular about hi» clothes, and ties, and so on, and he distinctly recalled that at. that period he once had a pair of trouserß of a very neat, invisible sort of blue that he had fancied mightily. "Yes," said his wife, "a cornflower but-ton-hole—or a narrow bird's eye tie in a neat bow —end a white waistcoat cut the right way—and a properly-made alpaca suit chosen by mc, and you would be a downright ffood-looking man!" "Perhaps," said B'iU —king her pretty chin in his forefinger and thumb, "you would like to change' the man too, while you are about it " » ' "_Jb, sir, I shouldn't. You were good enough to fall in love with, and you're good enough to stick to—but to be proud of you when we walk out together would be enchanting." "So you're ashamed of mc," said Mr Bradbury, thinking of the many proud halfhoura he had had walking with his wife, how people always saw her end smiled at her approach, yet she never brought him in a bill of any kind, and bore tho accusation of extravagance, hurled against her by her enemies, with a smile. "I'm never ashamed of you," she said softly, "I look beneath your atrocious coat, and I find you. But thr others, who don't know, judge you by you. appearance—-and the man they see is morally, mentally, and socially inferior to the man I know. How can they look inside your brains or heart And I say that ih« good, well-fitting coat that a man wears who can pay for and has the right to wear it, is a truer expression of him than the coarse ill-made one that in price and quality was clearly intended fox an inferior and much poorer man." "My dear," said Mr Bradbury, "for which tailor do you hold a brief V

His wife shook her head so tragically that Bill got up and went over to the glass. He twisted himself this way and that, but £2 10s stared him in the face all over. His figure was tall and really good, but so effectually disguised by its covering, that, as his wife often remarked, he might have looked better if he were abort—he would have shown less of that shoddy covering. "A big man wants such careful dressing," she used to say. "It's just like a tall woman—but oh! when she ia a success, she beate the little one into fits!" Mr Bradbury __uared h~ broad shoulders

before the long glass; he had not studied his appearance like this for years—not wince ho used anxiously to look to see if he had "And yon nse_ to bo so neat, Bill," she said mournfully-- "I always had an eye for a smart man, and vowed I would never mail - ' a man who wasn't!" "I'm neat now," he said, still intent on the glass. "Hang ib all, Bx*c, do you want mc to use scent?" "No. I'd murder you if yon did. But it's nice," she added slowly, unwillingly even, "to own a thoroughly well-turned-out man; he is such a credit to one, just a* you may love a man with all your heart, and yet he cjui make you look, and feel smalf. A woman is proud, you know, and likes tr> make the world admit, that she has good taste —even in selecting a husband."

Bill was still looking in the glass, but he was Inking stock now of his.wife, who somehow seemed of another world than his, yet if anything the advantage) lay with him in point "of birth and position. In a sudden Hash he realised how *he mttat. have winced for. him, how *he might, have drifted—how in the mere impul-e of like towards like, she. might have slipped, little by little, into the company of ono of the many presentable men who admired her— ho had wounded her pride, and a woman"i pride <in iho man she loves is so much keener, so much more easily hurt than her own.

"Row," he said, in a voice that had suddenly become twenty year* younger, "how warn' it. that, you didn't take up with oms of those other men?" She looked at. him rather sadly. "Oh!" she said, "a little walk—a little talk"—(and into her face cnm« a sudden illuminatioit that revealed much) "1 never was- a reasonable person in anything, and I never would begin it, because if 1 had. I should never have stopped!" "Roto." cried out her husband as if she had hurt him. "But I never did begin, Bill—l wouldnt, I always try and not squirm all over when you como to fetch mc from a party or somewhere, where the men are so fresh and well gloomed—and yet there is seldom one there you couldn't beat easily if you tried." "So all the men l pity you when they see mc," said Bill, sitting down suddenly, a* under a shock, "and they envy mc. So I get the best of it all round,' 1 ho added slowly. "Yes, they think I must ha-re loved you so very, very much to have married such clothe*, and that you love mc very, very little to wear them. You see, Bill, people can't look insido yonr mind, but they do see your hat and guess what sort of a man you aro by its stylo and shape. And a man who is really good inside likes to have his outside to match—purely as a matter of taste—to please himself, ma.c than others. The labourer should be made to stick to frieze, the man of brains and birth should wear the dress of his class. I'd give worlds to have tho old distinctions between the classes back, and the old Sumptuary laws put into force. It would be a real treat to wear satin, again without emulating one's cook 1" "You attach far too much value to externals," said Bill, trying to harden himself into a middle-aged man again, and failing signally. . "No, I do not—because, as I saod before, it ia by externals wo make ourselves known and influence others. It can't hurt to convey a pleasant instead of a disagreeable impression—you can do much more with a person who likes you than one whom you repel—_nd yon take much more sunshine about with you when you know you're exactly right, than when you feel you are all wrong! People often say to mc, 'How nice and well you look!* It's only that I'm—fresh. You're very fond of mc, Bill, aren't you?" "What do you think V "Well, I think you're much fonder of mc than I em of you. And once it was the other way round. Oh! you need not fly into a rage—but shall I tell you what has enabled mc to keep your love all these years ? Mainly, by being clever about clothes. If I had let myself slide as you have done, you would noit be a bit fond of mc now, I should be laid on the shelf with the broken china, and statues without noses —passed into the limbo of —_aifc was, not what is. You would neve, have

bought all the lovely things in this roo_ —it is a lovely room—if you had a frump to set down in the middle as chief ornament. You've gradually had your eye educated up to real taste, and I think it's chiefly a hard, brutal eort of Philistinism that makes you delight in your two-pound-ten coats, and thank God you are economical—otherwise mean." -"So it is a sin to be economical," swd Bill, "and pray where would you and the rest of women be if all then were spendthrifts T * • "No man has 1 * right to .dress above or below his station," said Rose decidedly.----"By epending what you. can afford to spend on you appearance, you encourage trade, you contribute your mite to every industry t from the highest to the lowest. People blame Boend-arifta—but if they ruin themselves, they do help others, their money percolates through every class, and it lives, it fulfils its uses; it is the misers, and the people who don't know how to spend" their riches who ought to be suppressed, and if they won't spend it properly, deserve to have it taken from them." Bill gasped- ~, ,_ t . ."A few women lake you would land everyone belonging to you in the work' house," he said.

"Oh 1" cried Rose, "I can pity the un-. selfishness of misers who hoard their money for wastrels to spend—-but I admire the generous-handed man more—for 'Ijis money extravagances are good for trade. Ohl" she added softly, "if you only knew how delicious it is to a woman to be proud of iha man she loves 1" "Tl» man she loves," Bill drew a deep breath and thanked God that at least fliers was no past participle there. And yet all her Jove had not paved him from outraging his wife's and friends' feelings by Baits at two-pound-ton. , He seemed-to see the horrid figures which ever way he looked—end yet he had been so proud of them, so unortentatiously fond of comparing his economy with Roses silken frivolities and frequent changes of raiment. 2JW her words, "Yes; but look at the difference between us!" smote him with the accent of truth} and then she came over and kissed hl ~» with a half-earnest, half-laughing look, and went away to bed. Ho sat. for awhile in deep thought—

(that look in bis wife* i*» of Wawry 0t,,» another man bit him luw|)— 4fce_ «lap|*o.'.£ his leg to a deciioon titrtjntaflt .bonwii' "i 'To-day's Monday, it cajole doae bjß\ud" : day, and it shall, | H|> * i-i It was Sunday mora||K-*~d Bom m_»|,'; into the room for church parade, M> «*«Mka mux with his back tamed-to her, 4 ___.'- ,a *- ing at the window, • who belonged «<*_|| umnistakablv to the amart brigade fronro the Utile crnikled "point a* the nape of tarns neck (the ill-dressed..mi- invariably kt«E| his hair grow big)! to the bang of hi*g supremely weU-cuii coat and fib ot his| boots, while reflected in, Ah* mirror '•h<B| saw just a gleam of cwxdSower.blue. ' ShmM stood gaaang at the famili«*, yet - unlE familiar, figure, glaaeed at- tha hafc iMtmjp gloves—also perfect of thftix kind on ttflg! table near him—thto with a beating h«l«g stepped quickly forward, ac 4 vrtth alma*fP!j tea-s in. her voice riecjil«ted: "Bull ?& Bill turned, he really was. » r«M»*ably well act-up fellow, sod the pn<la »;U_ra self tha* should be en«ura«*- &. WW* 9 f man stirred in him a* Bow stood,on ttjV, toe, pulled his face down, and kSsae* Wagu tenderly. „"-.'-'JSi-' "Oh, Bill, Bill!" she cried, atandu* A* 1o look «t> him, *'co_« along, or*a#WMi ho late, "and I waajfc all my see you; they trill hate m« ,w_n»Ja»_M I cvovt. .'.-hey wwer *©«•**' clever *I**"*l. <&s>>**> *?_■?s ;«o lawltl. ; w»art,| man of my > fit to »«ri« .* meP ■■- ", : '~ ,'.'■«-*:■ t?.„^ And they were. '_ __A . The loyal heart, with a ißiart cm ©w**,' side it, is what every w*«i»,l"*<!»A' Rose had got it. , , ; , .'('v.;.-1; J.j ■ ;w___v ,':'#(!