“Have you got any men's coats?” said she to the clerk who came forward to wait on the pair. “If I can get one cheap for me husband here I'll buy one.”
“Oh, yes, madam,” was the ready reply. “We have the best stock in town, by all odds. You can't fail to be suited.”
So saying, he led the way to a counter piled high with the articles called for, and hauled them over.
“There,” said he, pulling out one of a decidedly ugly pattern. “There is one of first quality cloth. It was made for a gentleman of this town, but did not exactly fit him, and so we'll sell it cheap.”
“And what is the price?”
“Three dollars.”
“Three dollars!” exclaimed the Irish lady, lifting up her hands in extreme astonishment.
“Three dollars! You'll be afther thinkin' we're made of money, sure! I'll give you a dollar and a half.”
“No, ma'am, we don't trade in that way. We don't very often take half what we ask for an article.”
“Mike,” said she, “pull off yer coat an' thry it on. Three dollars, and it looks as if it was all cotton.”