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