"Fix you up wid a dandy suit," he said.
"What I am looking for," I said, "is something second-hand. Do you have any?" I shot this out partly as a check.
"Old man upstairs, fix you up. That door."
I went through that door and up two flights, to a room containing an old man, a sewing machine, and a large table covered with old clothing.
"I'm looking for something for working-clothes," I said; "second-hand coat and pants."
He lifted a number from the tangled mass of garments, and displayed them. They appeared to me too clean, too new, too dressy.
"No," I said, "not that."
He searched again and came up with a highly respectable blue coat, with a mere raveling on one sleeve.
"No," I said, "I'll find one."
I fished very deeply, and caught some green pants, evidently "old" and spattered with white paint on the knees. He hastened to point out the white paint.