“Name your price,” said Eliakim, whose principle it was to insist upon his customers making the first offer.
“Twelve shillin's,” said Bridget.
“Twelve shillings!” exclaimed Eliakim, holding up both hands. “That's all they cost when they were new.”
“They cost every cint of five dollars,” said Bridget. “They was made at one of the most fashionable shops in the city. Oh, they was an illigant pair when they was new.”
“How many years ago was that?” asked the pawnbroker.
“Only six months, and they ain't been worn more'n a month.”
“I'll give you fifty cents.”
“Fifty cints!” repeated Mrs. McCarty, turning to the other customers, as if to call their attention to an offer so out of proportion to the valuable article she held in her hand. “Only fifty cints for these illigant breeches! Oh, it's you that's a hard man, that lives on the poor and the nady.”
“You needn't take it. I should lose money on it, if you didn't redeem it.”
“He says he'd lose money on it,” said Mrs. McCarty. “And suppose he did, isn't he a-rollin' in gold?”