"Even if old Gripp pays for the vests?"
"Yes."
Dan whistled—a whistle of dismay and anxiety, for he well knew that the landlord was a hard man.
CHAPTER III. GRIPP'S CLOTHING STORE.
Nathan Gripp's clothing store was located about a quarter of a mile from the City Hall, on Chatham street. Not many customers from Fifth avenue owned him as their tailor, and he had no reputation up town. His prices were undeniably low, though his clothes were dear enough in the end.
His patrons were in general from the rural districts, or city residents of easy tastes and limited means.
The interior of the store was ill-lighted, and looked like a dark cavern. But nearly half the stock was displayed at the door, or on the sidewalk, Mr. Gripp himself, or his leading salesman, standing in the door-way with keen, black eyes, trying to select from the moving crowds possible customers.
On the whole Gripp was making money. He sold his clothes cheap, but they cost him little. He paid the lowest prices for work, and whenever told that his wages would not keep body and soul together, he simply remarked: