of my life. Stand still, son; let's try it this way round!"
came back to the housekeeper's ears.

"I ain't never wore so many fings before," Bob declared
doubtfully, as a small white waist with, dangling elastic
stocking-supporters was finally discovered to go best buttoned
in the back.

"I know. But you'll see how fine it is to have your stockings
held up for you. Hi! Here are some sandals, Bob! Barefoot
sandals, only we'll wear them over stockings to-day, since
we're going shopping. Now for these blue garments I wonder
how they go. Shapeless-looking things, they look to me. I
suppose they'll resolve into baggy knickers and the sort of
long shirt with a belt to it the youngsters of your age all
wear. Here we go. Does this top part button behind, Bob,
like the waist? No, I think not . . . . It sure looks odd,
whichever way we don it, but that may be because it's pretty
big. Harold's several sizes bigger than you, though he can't
be much older. Give me six months and I'll have you filling
out any other five-year-olds clothes."

"My hands - they're all gone," remarked the child, holding out
his arms. The blue sleeves did, indeed, cover them to the
finger-tips. Laughing, Burns rolled the cloth back, making an
awkward bunch at the wrist, but allowing the small hands
freedom.

"When Mrs. Lessing trains her eye on you she'll want to make
time getting to the shops," Burns observed, struggling with