"Oh, there's no _wool_liness, madam." The gentleman's outfitter's tone
implied that wool was the last thing he would care to have anything to
do with. "It's the nap. And as to the appearance of these goods"--he
smiled slightly--"well, we put our reputation on them, that's all. I
can't say more than that. But I have the same thing in a smooth finish,
if you would prefer it."

"I think I would prefer it. Wouldn't you, Mamie?"

The man brought the same thing in a smooth finish, and looked
interrogatively at poppa.

"Oh, I prefer it, too," said he, with a profound assumption of
intelligent interest. "Were you thinking of having the pants made of the
same material, Augusta?"

The gentleman's outfitter suddenly turned his back, and stood thus for
an instant struggling with something like a spasm. Knowing that if
there's one thing in the world momma hates it's the exhibition of
poppa's sense of humour, I walked to the door. When I came back they
were measuring the Senator.

"Will you have the American shoulder, sir? Most of our customers prefer
it."

"Well, no. The English shoulder would be more of a novelty on me. You
see I come from the United States myself."

"Do you indeed, sir?"