“Vell, I likes you, Cho,” he said. “I vos your friend, an’ I gif you dree dollars for dem dings.”
“You can have them for ten dollars,” answered the boy.
A long talk followed, and in the end the Hebrew peddler agreed to pay seven dollars and a half, providing Joe would help to carry the goods to the main road, where the wagon had been left. The money was paid over, and by nightfall all of the goods were on the wagon, and Joe was left at the cabin with nothing but the suit on his back. But he had thirty dollars in his pocket, which he counted over with great satisfaction.
“I ought to be able to get something to do before that is gone,” he told himself. “If I don’t, it will be my own fault.”
A NEW SUIT OF CLOTHES.
On the following day it rained early in the morning, so Joe had to wait until noon before he left the old cabin. He took with him all that remained of his possessions, including the precious pocketbook with the thirty dollars. When he thought of the blue box he sighed.
“Perhaps it will never come to light,” he told himself. “Well, if it does not I’ll have to make the best of it.”
Two o’clock found him on the streets of Riverside, which was a town of fair size. During the summer months many visitors were in the place and the hotels and boarding houses were crowded.
There was one very fine clothing store in Riverside, but Joe did not deem it best, with his limited capital, to go there for a suit. Instead he sought out a modest establishment on one of the side streets.
Just ahead of him was an Irish couple who had evidently not been in this country many years. The man entered the store awkwardly, as if he did not feel at home. Not so his wife, who walked a little in advance of her husband.
“Have you got any men’s coats?” said she to the clerk who came forward to wait on the pair. “If I can get one cheap for me husband here I’ll buy one.”
“Oh, yes, madam,” was the ready reply. “We have the best stock in town, by all odds. You can’t fail to be suited.”
So saying, he led the way to a counter piled high with the articles called for, and hauled them over.
“There,” said he, pulling out one of a decidedly ugly pattern. “There is one of first quality cloth. It was made for a gentleman of this town, but did not exactly fit him, and so we’ll sell it cheap.”
“And what is the price?”
“Three dollars!” exclaimed the Irish lady, lifting up her hands in extreme astonishment.
“Three dollars! You’ll be afther thinkin’ we’re made of money, sure! I’ll give you a dollar and a half.”
“No, ma’am, we don’t trade in that way. We don’t very often take half what we ask for an article.”
“Mike,” said she, “pull off yer coat an’ thry it on. Three dollars, and it looks as if it was all cotton.”