"We sha'n't have any more coarse trowsers ready for two or three days. The jackets are your only chance."
"If I must, I suppose I must, then," replied Mrs. Gaston to this, in a desponding tone. "So let me have a couple of them."
The salesman took from a shelf two dark, heavy cloth jackets, cut out and tied up in separate bundles with a strip of the fabric from which they had been taken. As he handed them to the woman, he said—
"Remember, now, these are to be made extra nice."
"You shall have no cause of complaint—depend upon that, Michael. But isn't Mr. Berlaps in this morning?"
"No. He's gone out to Roxbury to see about some houses he is putting up there."
"You can pay me for them pantys, I suppose?"
"No. I never settle any bills in his absence."
"But it's a very small matter, Michael. Only a dollar and five cents," said Mrs. Gaston, earnestly, her heart sinking in her bosom.