coat on a chair.

There was a chorus of lamentation; but he remained firm. Dorothy began
to sniff ominously, and Gladys spoke longingly of the fathers possessed
by other girls. It was not until Mrs. Jobson sat eyeing her supper,
instead of eating it, that he began to temporize. He gave way bit by
bit, garment by garment. When he gave way at last on the great hat
question, his wife took up her knife and fork.

His workaday clothes appeared in his bedroom next morning, but the others
still remained in the clutches of Aunt Emma. The suit provided was of
considerable antiquity, and at closing time, Mr. Jobson, after some
hesitation, donned his new clothes and with a sheepish glance at his wife
went out; Mrs. Jobson nodded delight at her daughters.

"He's coming round," she whispered. "He liked that ticket-collector
calling him 'sir' yesterday. I noticed it. He's put on everything but
the topper. Don't say nothing about it; take it as a matter of course."

It became evident as the days wore on that she was right... Bit by bit
she obtained the other clothes--with some difficulty--from Aunt Emma, but
her husband still wore his best on Sundays and sometimes of an evening;
and twice, on going into the bedroom suddenly, she had caught him
surveying himself at different angles in the glass.

And, moreover, he had spoken with some heat--for such a good-tempered
man--on the shortcomings of Dorothy's laundry work.

"We'd better put your collars out," said his wife.