Aren't
you going to get me the things, Mr. Richard?"
The young man hastened away. Arrived before certain drawers and
receptacles, he turned over piles of hosiery with a thoughtful air.
Presently selecting a pair of black silk socks of particularly fine
texture, he deliberately forced his thumb through either heel, taking
care to make the edges rough as possible. Laughing to himself, he then
selected a pair of gray street gloves, eyed them speculatively for a
moment, then, taking out a penknife, cut the stitches in several places,
making one particularly long rent down the side of the left thumb. He
regarded these damages doubtfully, wondering if they looked entirely
natural and accidental; then, shaking his head, he gathered up the socks
and gloves and returned with them to Aunt Ruth.
She looked them over. "For pity's sake," said she, "you wear out your
things in queer ways! How did you ever manage to get holes in your heels
right on the bottom, like that? All the folks I ever knew wear out their
heels on the back or side."
Richard examined a sock. "That is rather odd," he admitted. "I must have
done it dancing.
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