They emerged from the shop, and, just beyond, came to a basement shop, the entrance to which was lined with old clothes of every style and material. Some had originally been of fine cloth and well made, but had in course of time made their way from the drawing-room to this low cellar. There were clothes of coarser texture and vulgar cut, originally made for less aristocratic customers, which perhaps had been sold to obtain the necessaries of life, or very possibly to procure supplies for the purchase of rum. Looking down into this under-ground shop, the quick eyes of Rose caught sight of the new dress, of which she had been so proud, depending from a nail just inside.
"There it is," she said, touching the newsboy on the arm. "I can see it."
"So it is. Let's go down."
They descended the stone steps, and found themselves in a dark room, about twelve feet square, hung round with second-hand garments. The presiding genius of the establishment was a little old man, with a dirty yellow complexion, his face seamed with wrinkles, but with keen, sharp eyes, who looked like a spider on the watch for flies.
"What can I sell you to-day, young gentleman?" he asked, rubbing his hands insinuatingly.
"What's the price of that dress?" asked Rough and Ready, coming straight to the point.
"That elegant dress," said the old man, "cost me a great deal of money. It's very fine."
"I know all about it," said the newsboy, "for I bought it for my sister last week."
"No, no, you are mistaken, young gentleman," said the old man, hastily, fearing it was about to be reclaimed. "I've had it in my shop a month."
"No, you haven't," said the newsboy, bluntly; "you bought it this morning of a tall man, with a red nose."