"Sorry, Mr. Chames. But dey must cop de limit for fair, dose jools.
Two hundred t'ousand plunks! What's dat dis side?"
"Forty thousand pounds," said Jimmy shortly. "Now, drop it."
"Yes, Mr. Chames. Can I help youse wit' de duds?"
"No, thanks. Spike; I'm through, now. You might just give me a brush down, though, if you don't mind. Not that. That's a hair brush. Try the big black one."
"Dis is a dude suit for fair," observed Spike, pausing in his labors.
"Glad you like it, Spike."
"It's de limit. Excuse me. How much of de long green did youse pungle for it, Mr. Chames?"
"I really can't remember," said Jimmy, with a laugh. "I could look up the bill and let you know. Seventy guineas, I fancy."
"What's dat—guineas? Is dat more dan a pound?"
"A shilling more. Why?"