From Scattergood Baines's seat on the piazza of his hardware store he could look across the river and through a side window of the bank. Scattergood was availing himself of this privilege. As a member of the finance committee of the bank Scattergood was naturally interested in that enterprise, so important to the thrifty community, but his interest at the moment was not exactly official. He was regarding, speculatively, the back of young Ovid Nixon, the assistant cashier. His concern for young Ovid was sartorial. It is true that a shiny alpaca office coat covered the excellent shoulders of the boy, but below that alpaca and under Scattergood's line of vision were trousers--and carefully stretched over a hanger on a closet hook was a coat! There was also a waistcoat, recognized only by the name of _vest_ in Coldriver, and that very morning Scattergood had seen the three, to say nothing of a certain shirt and a necktie of sorts, making brave young Ovid's figure. Ovid passed Scattergood's store on the way to his work. Baines had regarded him with interest. "Mornin', Ovid" he said. "Morning, Mr. Baines." "Calc'late to be wearin' some new clothes, Ovid? Eh?" Ovid smiled down at himself, and wagged his head. "Don't recall seem' jest sich a suit in Coldriver before," said Scattergood. "Never bought 'em at Lafe Atwell's, did you?" "Got 'em in the city," said Ovid. "I want to know! Come made that way, Ovid, or was they manufactured special fer you?" "Best tailor there was," said Ovid. "Must 'a' come to quite a figger, includin' the shirt and necktie." "Forty dollars for the suit," Ovid said, proudly, "and it busted a five-dollar bill all to pieces to git the shirt and tie." Scattergood waggled his head admiringly. "Must be a satisfaction," he said, "to be able to afford sich clothes." Ovid looked a bit doubtful, but Scattergood's voice was so interested, so bland, that any suspicion of irony was allayed. "How's your ma?" Scattergood asked. "Pert," answered Ovid. "Ma's spry. Barrin' a siege of neuralgy in the face off and on, ma hain't complainin' of nothin'." "Has she took to patronizin' a city tailor, too?" Scattergood asked. "Mostly," said Ovid, "ma makes her own." Scattergood nodded. "Still does sewin' for other folks?" "Ma enjoys it," said Ovid, defensively. "Says it passes the time." "Passes consid'able of it, don't it? Passes the time right up till she gits into bed?" "Ma's industrious." "It's a handsome rig-out," said Scattergood. "Credit to you; credit to Coldriver; credit to the bank." Ovid glanced down at his legs to admire them. "Been spendin' Saturday nights and Sundays out of town for a spell, hain't you? Seems like I hain't seen you around." "Been takin' the 'three-o'clock' down the line," said Ovid, complacently. "Girl?" said Scattergood--one might have noticed that it was hopefully. "Naw.... Fellers. We go to the opery Saturday nights and kind of amuse ourselves Sundays." "Um!... G'-by, Ovid."