Ranald could not define it, but it chilled his heart, and at once he began to feel how badly dressed he was.

The torn shirt, the ragged trousers, and the old, unshapely boots that he had never given a thought to before, now seemed to burn into his flesh.

Unconsciously he backed away and turned to go.
"Where are you off to ?" cried Harry; "do you think we are going to let you go now?
We had hard enough work finding you.

Come up to the office and see the governor.

He wants to see you badly." Ranald glanced at the lieutenant, immaculate except where the slush had speckled his shiny boots, and then at his own ragged attire.