A MATTER OF COATS
Mrs. Shannon had been right about Mr. Duval. He _was_ saving money.
Also, it was for Jeanne; or, at least, for a purpose that closely
concerned that little maiden.
What Mrs. Shannon had not guessed was the fact that Old Captain and Mr.
Duval had discovered--or, rather, had been discovered by--two places
willing to pay good prices for their excellent whitefish and trout. The
_chef_ of a certain hotel noted for planked whitefish gave a standing
order for fish of a certain size. And a certain dining-car steward,
having once tasted that delicious planked fish, discovered where it was
to be obtained in a raw state and, thereafter, twice a week, ordered a
supply for his car.
The townspeople, moreover, liked to buy fish from Old Captain's queer
shop in the end of his freight car. The third partner, Barney Turcott,
whose old sailboat had been equipped with a gasoline motor, had been
fortunate in his catches. Altogether, the season was proving a
satisfactory one.
Sometimes Duval looked at his bankbook and sighed. He had vowed to save
the money because it was _right_ to save it for the unhappy purpose for
which he wanted it. But when he should have enough! Duval could not bear
to think of that moment. It meant a tremendous sacrifice--a horrible
wrench. Yet every penny, except what was actually needed for food, went
into the bank. And the fund was growing almost _too_ rapidly for Duval's
comfort.
One evening, when Jeanne stepped over the high threshold of her father's
little room for her lesson--no matter how tired the fisherman might be,
the daily lesson was never omitted--she found Mr. Duval kneeling beside
the little old trunk. It was open and the tray had been lifted out. From
the depths below, her father had taken a number of fine white
shirts--what Old Captain called "b'iled shirts." A pair of shoes that
could have been made for no other feet than Léon Duval's--they were so
small, so trim, and yet so masculine--stood on the table. Beside them
were two pairs of neatly-rolled socks--of finest silk, had Jeanne but
known it. Still in the trunk were several neckties, a suit of fine
underwear, also a suit of men's clothing.
Duval carefully lifted out the coat and slipped it on. It fitted him
very well.
"Tell me, little one," said Duval, eagerly, "if it looks to you like the
coats worn by the well-dressed men of today?"
"I--I don't think I've _seen_ very many well-dressed men--that is, to
notice their clothes," said Jeanne.
"Nor I," said her father. "I am on the lake daytimes, where the
well-dressed are apt to wear white flannels and are nineteen years of
age. Often there is a pink parasol. The _lake_ fashions, I fear, are not
for a man of my sober years. In the evening, the well-dressed man is
either indoors or in his overcoat. I think I must ask you to do me a
favor."
"I'd love to, Daddy. What is it?"
"Tomorrow, you will be taking this book back to the library for me. On
the way there and on your way back, through the town, whenever you can,
walk behind a well-dressed gentleman. I want you to study the seams and
the tails of the coat. Now look well at these."
Mr. Duval, decidedly dandified in his good coat, turned his back to his
daughter.
"Observe the seams," said he. "The length of the tails, the set of the
sleeves at the shoulder. At the cut also in front; at the number of
buttons. Tomorrow, you must observe these same matters in the coats of
other men. Above all, my Jeanne, do not seem to stare. But keep your
eyes open."
"I will, Daddy. I know exactly what you mean. When I made this pink
dress for myself and the things for Annie and Sammy, I looked at the
clothes on other children to see how wide to make the hems, how long to
make the sleeves, how high to make the necks, and where to make things
_puffy_."
"And you made a very good job of it all, too, my little woman. I am
proud of your skill with the needle and greatly obliged to your good
friend, Old Captain. Now look again at the seams in the back and then
for our lesson. But first bring a plate of water and a large spoon. I
will teach you how to eat soup."
The garments were put away and the trunk closed by the time Jeanne
returned. The soup lesson amused her greatly.
"I can eat it much _faster_," she said, "the way Sammy does. And it's
hard, isn't it, not to make a single bit of noise! I think I'm getting
_funny_ lessons--sitting with both feet on the floor and standing with
my shoulders straight and cleaning my finger nails every day, and
brushing my teeth and holding my fork. And last night it was writing
letters. I liked to do that."
"There is much more that I _should_ teach you, my Jeannette, that I am
unable. I am behind the times. Fashions have changed. Only a gentlewoman
could give you the things that you need. But books--and life--Ah, well,
little Jeanne, some day, you shall be your mother's true daughter and I
shall have done one good deed--at a very great cost. But take away these
dishes--you have eaten all your soup."
"It was pretty _thin_ soup," laughed Jeanne. "What are we to try next?"
"Another letter, I think."
"That's good," said Jeanne. "I like to do letters, but I'm _so_ afraid
I'll forget and wipe my pen on this pink dress. I almost did last time."
The next day Jeanne remembered about the coat. Unfortunately it was a
warm day and an inconvenient number of well-dressed men had removed
their coats and were carrying them over their arms. But those were
mostly stout men. She was much more interested in short, slender ones.
Happily, a few of slight build were able to endure their coats.
Jeanne's inquisitive eyes all but bored twin holes in the backs of a
number of very good garments. At first she had been very cautious, but
presently she became so interested in her queer pursuit that she forgot
that the clothes contained flesh and blood persons.
Finally a sauntering young man wheeled suddenly to catch her very close
to his heels.
"Say," said he, grinning at her, "I've walked twice around this triangle
to see if you were really following me. What's the object?"
"It's--it's your coat," explained Jeanne, turning very crimson under her
dusky skin.
"My coat! What's the matter with my coat?"
"The--the style."
"What! Isn't it stylish enough to suit you?"
"It's the _seams_. I'm--I'm using them for a pattern."
"Ah, I see. Behold the lady tailor, planning a suit of clothes for her
husband."
"I _haven't_ any husband," denied Jeanne, indignantly. "I'm too young
to be married. But I'm awfully glad to see the _front_ of your coat.
I've seen a great many backs; but it's harder to get a good look at
fronts. Good-by."
"Queer little kid!" said the young man, pausing to watch Jeanne's sudden
flight down the street. "Pretty, too, with those big black eyes. Looks
like a French child."
In her flight, Jeanne overtook a boy of about her own height, but far
from her own size. He was stout and he puffed as he toiled up the hill.
Where had she seen that plump boy? Was it--yes, it _was_ the very boy
she had pulled out of the lake, that pleasant day in May, when the lake
was still cold. What _should_ she do if that grateful boy were to thank
her, right there in the street! Having passed him, she paused
irresolutely to look at him. After all, if he wished to thank her, he
might as well have a chance to get it over.
But Jeanne needn't have been alarmed. Roger glanced at her, turned
bright scarlet, and dashed into the nearest shop. Jeanne, eying the
window, wondered what business a boy could possibly have in that
particular place. So did Roger after he got inside. It was a
hair-dresser's shop for ladies. He bolted out, tore past a bright pink
dress, and plunged into a tobacco shop. That at least was a safe harbor
for a _man_.
"I guess," said Jeanne, surprised at Roger's sudden agility, "he didn't
know me in these clothes. Next time I'll speak to him."
That night, Jeanne asked her father to try on the old coat, in order
that she might compare it with those she had seen. He slipped it on and
turned so that she might view it from all sides.
"I'm afraid, Daddy," said she, sorrowfully, "that none of the _best_
coats are quite like yours. You have _more_ seams, closer together and
not so straight. And your tails are longer. And you fold back
differently in front."
"I feared so," said Mr. Duval. "This coat was not new when I laid it
away and the styles have changed perhaps more than I suspected."
"I am sorry," apologized Jeanne.
"I fear I am not," said Mr. Duval, with one of his rare smiles. "You
have put off an evil day--for _me_. It is too warm for lessons. Let us
pay Old Captain a visit. You must see the big trout that Barney brought
in today."
Not only Barney's big trout but Barney himself was at Old Captain's.
Jeanne liked Barney. He was younger than either of his partners and so
exceedingly shy that he blushed whenever anybody looked at him. But he
sometimes brought candy to the Duval children and he whittled wonderful
boats. He never said anything, but he did a great deal of listening with
his large red ears.
This time, at sight of Jeanne, Barney began to fumble awkwardly at his
pockets. Finally he pulled forth a large bag of peanuts and a small
brown turtle. He laid both in her lap, for by this time Jeanne was
perched on the bench outside the old car.
"Thank you, Barney," smiled Jeanne. "We'll have a tea-party with the
peanuts tomorrow and I'll scoop out a tiny pond, some place, for the
turtle. Isn't he lovely!"
Barney grinned, but made no other response.
"I'm glad you folks come," chuckled Old Captain. "Barney here has nigh
about talked me to death."