e thirty-five."

After some haggling the price was accepted, and the article was laid
aside.

"Now show me some of your nice suits," said Sam. "I've got a place,
and I want to look like a gentleman."

"Have you got any money?" asked the old man, with the momentary
suspicion that he might be throwing his time and trouble away upon a
penniless purchaser.

"Yes," said Sam. "What do you take me for?"

"How much have you got?"

"What do you want to know for?"

"I want to know what clo'es to show you."

Sam was about to answer five dollars, when a shrewd thought changed
his intention.

"I've got four dollars," he said.

Even this was beyond the expectations of the dealer.

"All right, my son," he said. "I'll give you some nice clo'es for four
dollars."

"You'd better if you want me to come here again. If you do well by me
I'll get all my clo'es here."

A young man of fashion could not have spoken more condescendingly, or
with an air of greater importance than Sam. He was right in thinking
that his patronage was of importance to the old man.

"I'll dress you so fine the gals will look at you as you go along the
street," he said.

"Go ahead!" said Sam. "Do your best by me, and I'll send my friends
here."

Without going into details, it may be said that our hero selected
everything to his satisfaction except a coat. Here he was rather
particular. Finally, he espied a blue coat with brass buttons, hanging
in a corner.

"Take down that coat," he said, "I guess that'll suit me."

"That costs too much. I can't give you that and the rest of the things
for four dollars."

"Why can't you?"

"I'd lose too much."

Opposition confirmed Sam in his determination to own it.

"Give it to me; I'll try it on," he said.

Putting it on, he surveyed himself with satisfaction, in a small,
cracked mirror. True, it was about two sizes too large, but Sam felt
that in getting more cloth he was getting a better bargain.

"That's my style," he said. "Don't I look fashionable?"

"I'll have to ask you twenty-five cents more for that coat," said the
old dealer.

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I must. I ought to ask more."

"Then you may keep the rest of the clo'es. I don't want 'em."

Sam made a movement as if to leave the store.

"Give me twenty cents more, my son."

"Didn't I tell you I wasn't your son? I won't give you no twenty
cents, but I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll give you these clo'es I've
got on."

The ol