"Oh, my dear young lady, how you wrong me! This article came from——"
"The factory of Messrs. Hocus & Pocus, corner of Can't and Come-it Street, City of Gotham!"
"Oh, my dear young lady——"
"Look here, my brave buccaneer, I know all about it! I told you I'd been along there!" said the girl, and, turning to Mrs. Condiment, she said. "See here, my dear, good soul, if you want to buy that 'India' silk that you are looking at so longingly, you may do it with a safe conscience! True, it never passed through the custom house—because it was made in New York. I know all about it! All these 'foreign goods' are manufactured at the north and sent by agents all over the country. These agents dress and talk like sailors and assume a mysterious manner on purpose to be suspected of smuggling, because they know well enough fine ladies will buy much quicker and pay much more if they only fancy they are cheating Uncle Sam in buying foreign goods from a smuggler at half price."
"So, then, you are not a smuggler, after all!" said Mrs. Condiment, looking almost regretfully at the sailor.
"Why, ma'am, you know I told you you were accusing me wrongfully."
"Well, but really, now, there was something about you that looked sort of suspicious."
"What did I tell you? A look put on on purpose," said Cap.
"Well, he knows that if he wanted to pass for a smuggler, it didn't take here," said Mrs. Condiment.
"No, that it didn't!" muttered the object of these commentaries.