It was not necessary, however, that he should go in any particular direction. He decided, therefore, to walk along, keeping a good lookout, and, when he saw a clothing store, to go in and provide a new outfit. He was sensible that he was by no means dressed in city style. His clothes were coarse, and being cut and made by his aunt--who, though an excellent woman, was by no means an excellent tailor--looked countrified and outlandish. The first hint Robert had of this was when two well-dressed boys, meeting him, simultaneously burst out laughing. Robert was sensitive, but he was by no means bashful or timid. Accordingly he stepped up to the boys and demanded with kindling eyes: “Are you laughing at me?” “Oh, no, of course not,” answered one of the boys, rolling his tongue in his cheek. “Certainly not, my dear fellow,” said the other, winking. “I think you were,” said Robert firmly. “Do you see anything to laugh at in me?” “Well, to tell the truth,” said the first boy, “we were wondering whether you import your clothes from Paris or London.” “Oh, that’s it,” said Robert good-humoredly, for he was aware that his clothes were of strange cut. “My clothes were made in the country and I don’t think much of them myself. If you’d tell me where I can get some better ones I will buy a suit.” The boys were not bad-hearted and were won over by Robert’s good humor. “You’re a good fellow,” said the first speaker, “and I am sorry I was rude enough to laugh at you. There is a store where I think you can find what you want.” He pointed to a clothing store. In front of which was a good display of ready-made clothing. “Thank you,” said Robert. He entered and the boys walked on. If Robert had been better dressed he would have received immediate attention. As it was, he looked like a poor boy in want of work and not at all like a customer. So, at all events, decided a dapper-looking clerk whose attention was drawn to the new arrival. “Well, boy, what do you want?” he demanded roughly, approaching Robert. “Civil treatment to begin with,” answered Robert with spirit. “If you’ve come for a place, we don’t want any scarecrows here.” It appears that the firm had advertised for an errand boy that very morning, and it was naturally supposed that Robert was an applicant. “Are you the owner of this shop?” asked Robert coolly. “No,” answered the clerk, lowering his tone a little. “I thought so. I’ll tell my business to somebody else.” “You’d better not put on airs!” said the clerk angrily. “You are the one who is putting on airs,” retorted Robert. “What’s the matter here?” asked a portly gentleman, walking up to the scene of the altercation. “I was telling this boy that he would not do for the place,” answered the clerk. “I believe, Mr. Turner, that you are not commissioned to make a selection,” said the gentleman. And Turner retired, discomfited. “So you want a place?” he said inquiringly to Robert. “No, sir, I don’t.”