“Any old coats, pantaloons or vests?” said the man, as he placed,
carefully, his basket on the floor. “Don’t want any money. See here!
Beautiful!”
And as he spoke, he took up a pair of vases and held them before my
eyes. They were just the thing for my mantle pieces, and I covetted
them on the instant.
“What’s the price?” I enquired.
“Got an old coat?” was my only answer. “Don’t want money.”
My husband was the possessor of a coat that had seen pretty good
service, and which he had not worn for some time. In fact, it had
been voted superannuated, and consigned to a dark corner of the
clothes-press. The thought of this garment came very naturally into
my mind, and with the thought a pleasant exhilaration of feeling,
for I already saw the vases on my mantles.
“Any old clothes?” repeated the vender of china ware.
Without a word I left the dining room, and hurried up to where our
large clothes-press stood, in the passage above. From this I soon
abstracted the coat, and then descended with quick steps.
The dull face of the old man brightened, the moment his eyes fell
upon the garment. He seized it with a nervous movement, and seemed
to take in its condition at a single glance. Apparently, the
examination was not very satisfactory, for he let the coat fall, in
a careless manner, across a chair, giving his shoulders a shrug,
while a slight expression of contempt flitted over his countenance.
“Not much good!” fell from his lips after a pause.
By this time I had turned to his basket, and was examining, more
carefully, its contents. Most prominent stood the china vases, upon
which my heart was already set; and instinctively I took them in my
hands.
“What will you give for the coat?” said I.
The old man gave his head a significant shake, as he replied—
“No very good.”
“It’s worth something,” I returned. “Many a poor person would be
glad to buy it for a small sum of money. It’s only a little defaced.
I’m sure its richly worth four or five dollars.”
“Pho! Pho! Five dollar! Pho!” The old man seemed angry at my most
unreasonable assumption.
“Well, well,” said I, beginning to feel a little impatient, “just
tell me what you will give for it.”
“What you want?” he enquired, his manner visibly changing.
“I want these vases, at any rate,” I answered, holding up the
articles I had mentioned.
“Worth four, five dollar!” ejaculated the dealer, in well feigned
surprise.
I shook my head. He shrugged his shoulders, and commenced searching
his basket, from which, after a while, he took a china cup and
saucer, on which I read, in gilt letters, “For my Husband.”
“Give you this,” said he.
It was now my time to show surprise; I answered—
“Indeed you won’t, then. But I’ll tell you what I will do; I’ll let
