The Chatham Street trader looked after our hero as if he didn’t quite comprehend him; but Dick, without waiting for a reply, passed on with his companion.
In some of the shops auctions seemed to be going on.
“I am only offered two dollars, gentlemen, for this elegant pair of doeskin pants, made of the very best of cloth. It’s a frightful sacrifice. Who’ll give an eighth? Thank you, sir. Only seventeen shillings! Why the cloth cost more by the yard!”
This speaker was standing on a little platform haranguing to three men, holding in his hand meanwhile a pair of pants very loose in the legs, and presenting a cheap Bowery look.
Frank and Dick paused before the shop door, and finally saw them knocked down to rather a verdant-looking individual at three dollars.
“Clothes seem to be pretty cheap here,” said Frank.
“Yes, but Baxter Street is the cheapest place.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Johnny Nolan got a whole rig-out there last week, for a dollar,—coat, cap, vest, pants, and shoes. They was very good measure, too, like my best clothes that I took off to oblige you.”
“I shall know where to come for clothes next time,” said Frank, laughing. “I had no idea the city was so much cheaper than the country. I suppose the Baxter Street tailors are fashionable?”