"What the deuce am I going to do?" I cried, sinking into a chair in despair.
"Slit it up the back, and I'll pin it on you," suggested the ever-ready Muse.
"But it isn't mine," said I.
"Buy it," said she.
In an instant I had the room clerk on the telephone. "Will you sell me that vest?" I asked.
"Why—no," he said. "I don't want to sell it."
"But I need it in my business," I pleaded.
"Well, you've got it, haven't you?"
"Yes, I've got it all right," I replied; "but I can't get into it without putting a yard of extra width in the back. Come on—be a good fellow and sell it to me," I added with all the pathos that I could summon.
"No," he answered with a chuckle, "no—I couldn't sell it to you; but I'll give it to you with all the pleasure in the world!"