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Nobody knew better than Mrs McFarlane what wasting money meant."Someone must have pinched it from my peg," sobbed James in a hoarse whisper.Il ask your mother about it this evening," said Mr McFarlane. At last James's mother was convinced that a new coat was indeed neces- 20 25 sary, though she sighed as she thought what a hole it would burn in her pocket. So she took James out with her the next day after school and bought him one. Better to be a bit on the big side at first," she said wisely when she saw James frown critically at the somewhat large coat she had chosen for him.*Where do you think he's got to?" Mrs McFarlane asked her husband anxiously. But Mrs McFarlane couldn't stop worrying. James had never been so 15 late before. What could be the reason? Could he have had an accident on the way home? Only a few months ago a child his age had been killed on that road. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock, still there was no sign of James. She nad telephoned the mothers of all the friends she could think of, but nobody knew where he was. At last she dissolved into tears. *The poor boy! I'll never forgive myself if anything has happened to him!""It's a good qualnty coat and it'll have to last you a good many winters to come."


Original text

Nobody knew better than Mrs McFarlane what wasting money meant. She often sat up late in the evenings with pencil and paper, scribbling down each petty sum that had been spent by herself and her famly, adding the figures and shaking her head at the total, which usually amounted to a good deal more than she would have liked. She had trained her husband to give her precise details of every purchase he had made, so that she could work out the family's financial position right down to the last penny. Whenever her husband or her son James wished to buy anything of any importance, Mrs McFarlane had to be consulted, for she was always the one to decide, not o only whether a thing should be bought at all, but also how much it might be allowed to cost. And the family acted accordingly. James had been behaving in a strange way for several days, his father noticed. At breakfast in the mornings before going to school, he had been looking preoccupied, and there had been increasing difficulty in getting him 15 to leave the house punctually. One morning as they walked down the road together,Mr McFarlaneasked him what was wrong. James was reluctant to reply, but at last he said to his father: "It's my coat, Dad. I've had it a long time now, and the boys in my form keep making fun of me because I don't get a new one. I look so silly in it, Dad, but I daren't tell Mum!" Mr McFarlane looked at his ten-year-old son. He was right. The boy looked ridiculous in the coat, which had grown much too small for him, although it had been lengthened at hem and sleeves and much mended by his economical mother. It should have been thrown away long ago. Il ask your mother about it this evening," said Mr McFarlane. At last James's mother was convinced that a new coat was indeed neces- 20 25 sary, though she sighed as she thought what a hole it would burn in her pocket. So she took James out with her the next day after school and bought him one. Better to be a bit on the big side at first," she said wisely when she saw James frown critically at the somewhat large coat she had chosen for him. "Nowbe careful withit, whatever you do,"she added. "It's a good qualnty coat and it'll have to last you a good many winters to come." The next morning James set of to school more cheerfully, looking for- wardto the favourable effect which he hoped his new coatwould haveon his friends. There'd be no more giggling at him when he went into the cloakroom now At six o'clock that evening Mrs McFarlane began to feel rather worried- 10 James still had not returned from school. What could he be doing? *Where do you think he's got to?" Mrs McFarlane asked her husband anxiously. "Probably gone to tea with one of his friends," said Mr Mckarlane, going back to his newspaper. But Mrs McFarlane couldn't stop worrying. James had never been so 15 late before. What could be the reason? Could he have had an accident on the way home? Only a few months ago a child his age had been killed on that road. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock, still there was no sign of James. She nad telephoned the mothers of all the friends she could think of, but nobody knew where he was. At last she dissolved into tears. *The poor boy! I'll never forgive myself if anything has happened to him!" It was half past ten when a policeman knocked at the door and Mrs McFar lane ran to hug her son who was standing meekly at his side. She was so overjoyed to see him safe that she hardly thought to ask what had happened. "Found him on a seatin the parka few minutes ago, madam," said the 25 policeman. *Was frightened to go home, so he told me. He says he's lost 20 his coat." Mrs McFarlane's face became white and hard. "Someone must have pinched it from my peg," sobbed James in a hoarse whisper. You'l have something to cry about by the time I've finished with you!" cried his mother, and Mr Mckarlane looked at the policeman with a helpless shrug of the shoulders.


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