ants you made, you thinkin' him a
friend of mine? As he is."

"No," said the woman.

"As with the pants, so with coat, an' shirt; likewise boots,"--checking
off each with a rub on his trousers.

Andy's tongue was oiled, and ran glibly.

Mrs. Wart, on the back seat, shuffled her feet and hemmed in vain.

Jane pulled away at the dock and mullein, in one of her old fits of
silent musing.

"Says I, 'See my ducks an' sack, Mr. Starke? Latest cut,' says I. 'Wish
you knew my tailor. Man of enterprise, an' science, Sir. Knows
mechanics, an' acoustics, an' the rest,--at his finger-ends,--well as
his needle,' said I.

"The old chap's watery eyes began to open at that.

"'Heard of yer engine, by George!' I goes on.

"'What's he think of the chances?' he says. 'Hes _he_ influence?'

"'No,--but he's pants an' sech, which is more to the purpose,' I says.
'An' without a decent suit to yer back, how kin you carry the thing
before Congress?' says I. Put it to him strong, that way. 'How kin ye?'
I says. 'Now look here, Mr. Starke. Ye 'r' no runner in debt, I know:
not willin' to let other people fill yer stomach an' cover yer back,
because you've got genius into ye, which they haven't. All right!' says
I. 'American pluck. But ye see, facts is facts, an' yer coat, not to
mince matters, is nothin' but rags. An' yer shirt'--

"His old wizened phiz got quite red at that, an' he caught his breath a
minute.

"'Go on, Andrew,' says he, puttin' his hand on my arm, 'you mean well.
_I_ don't mind it. Indeed, no.' Smilin' kind, to let me see as he wasn't
hurt. However, I dropped the shirt.

"'It can't be otherwise,' says I, soothin', you know, 'so long's you've
to sleep in the markets, an' so forth,' meanin' Hayes's stable. 'Now
look o' here. My tailor, wishin' to help on the cause of science, as you
say, wants to advance you a suit of clothes. On the engine. Of course,
on the engine. You to pay when the thing's through. Congress or patents
or what not. What d'ye say?' An' so"--

"He wears them. You told me that," said the Quaker, in a dry, mechanical
tone.

"You don't care to hear the ins an' outs of it? Well, there's one thing
I'll mention," sulkily gathering up the reins; "to-morrow it'll be all
up with the old chap, one way or t'other: him an' his engine's goin' on
trial. Come up, Jerry!" jerking the horse's head; "ye ought to be in
Broad Street this minute. An' if it's worsted he is, it'll be a case of
manslaughter agin the