|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
`What time is it now, Mum?' asked Frankie as soon as he had finished dinner on the following Sunday.
`Hooray! Only one more hour and Charley will be here! Oh, I wish it was three o'clock now, don't you, Mother?'
`No, dear, I don't. You're not dressed yet, you know.'
Frankie made a grimace.
`You're surely not going to make me wear my velvets, are you, Mum? Can't I go just as I am, in my old clothes?'
The `velvets' was a brown suit of that material that Nora had made out of the least worn parts of an old costume of her own.