"I ain't gwine ter buy nuffin else. I'se got all I want," said the negro, sullenly.
"Dot may be so, my dear sir," replied the proprietor, "but I shust vants you to look at dis goat. It vas de pure Russian vool, und dis dime last year you doan got dot same goat for dwenty-five dollars. Mine gracious, clothing vos gone down to noding, and dere vas no money in de pisness any longer. You vant someding dot vill keep you from de vedder, und make you feel varm as summer dime. De gonsumption vas goin round, und de doctors dell me it vas the vedder. More dan nine beoples died roun vere I lif last veek. Dink of dot. Mine frent, dot goat vas Russian vool, dick and hevy. Vy, Misder Jones, who owns de pank on Canal streed, took that goat home mit him yesterday, and vore it all day, but it vas a leetle dight agross de shoulders, und he brought it pack shust a vile ago. Dry it on, my dear sir. Ah! dot vas all right. Mister Jones vas a rich man, and he liked dot goat. How deep de pockets vas, but it vas a leetle dight agross de shoulders."
The negro buttoned up the coat, thrust his hands in the pockets, and felt the purse. A peaceful smile played over his face when his touch disclosed to his mind the contents of the pockets, but he choked down his joy and inquired:
"Who did you say wore this hyar coat?"
"Vy, Mister Jones vot owns de bank on Canal streed."
"What yer gwine to ax fur it?"
"Dwenty dollars."
"Dat's powerful high price fur dis coat, but I'll take it."
"Herman, here, wrap up dis goat fur the schentleman, and throw in a cravat; it will make him look nice mit de ladies."
"Nebber mind, I'll keep the coat on," replied the negro, and pulling out a roll of money, he paid for it and left the store.