“Well, what do they cost? Come on, now. Let’s hear.”
“I don’t know, you idiot. We get ’em by the bunch. Maybe eight dollars, maybe nine.”
“Can you beat that?” Jimmy appealed to the company. “Captain of the Nine and doesn’t know what his uniforms cost him!”
“That’s not my business, you chump. That’s up to the managers. I’ve got enough to look after—”
“Well, here’s a fellow can tell us.” Jimmy turned to Russell. “What do those uniforms cost, Rus, per uniform? You ought to know.”
Russell smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t. You can pay almost any price for a three-piece uniform, from six dollars up to twelve. It depends on how many you buy, of course, and on quality, too.”
“Are you an authority on the subject, Emerson?” asked Greenwood.
Russell shook his head. “No, not at all,” he answered.
“You’re an awful bluffer, Jimmy,” laughed Cal.
“Not a bit,” denied Jimmy stoutly. “Rus sells uniforms and he ought to know the prices of ’em better than we do. It’s his busi—”