"Please yourself," said the old lady, and she would say no more.

"I think you're quite right, Father," said Tommy, "and if I can, I'll
help you to make them."

Next day the father and son set to work, and Tommy contrived to make
himself so useful, that the Tailor hardly knew how he got through so
much work.

"It's not like the same thing," he broke out at last, "to have some one
a bit helpful about you; both for the tailoring and for company's sake.
I've not done such a pleasant morning's work since your poor mother
died. I'll tell you what it is, Tommy," he added, "if you were always
like this, I shouldn't much care whether Brownie stayed or went. I'd
give up his help to have yours."

"I'll be back directly," said Tommy, who burst out of the room in
search of his brother.

"I've come away," he said, squatting down, "because I can't bear it. I
very nearly let it all out, and I shall soon. I wish the things weren't
going to come to me," he added, kicking a stone in front of him. "I
wish he'd measured you, Johnnie."

"I'm very glad he didn't," said Johnnie. "I wish he'd kept them
himself."

"Bottle-green, with brass buttons," murmured Tommy, and therewith fell
into a reverie.