Just to wear it! But his mother told him, "No." She told him he
must take great care of his suit, for never would he have another
nearly so fine; he must save it and save it and only wear it on
rare and great occasions. It was his wedding suit, she said. And
she took his buttons and twisted them up with tissue paper for fear
their bright newness should be tarnished, and she tacked little
guards over the cuffs and elbows and wherever the suit was most
likely to come to harm. He hated and resisted these things, but
what could he do? And at last her warnings and persuasions had
effect and he consented to take off his beautiful suit and fold it
into its proper creases and put it away. It was almost as though
he gave it up again. But he was always thinking of wearing it
and of the supreme occasion when some day it might be worn without
the guards, without the tissue paper on the buttons, utterly and
delightfully, never caring, beautiful beyond measure.
One night when he was dreaming of it, after his habit, he
dreamed he took the tissue paper from one of the buttons and found
its brightness a little faded, and that distressed him mightily in
his dream. He polished the poor faded button and polished it, and
if anything it grew duller. He woke up and lay awake thinking of
the brightness a little dulled and wondering how he would feel if
perhaps when the great occasion (whatever it might be) should
arrive, one button should chance to be ever so little short of its
first glittering freshness, and for days and days that thought
remained with him, distressingly.
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