IT was about ten o'clock on the next morning, when Mrs. Gaston
appeared at the shop of Berlaps, the tailor.

"Here is the other pair," she said, as she came up to the counter,
behind which stood Michael, the salesman.

That person took the pair of trowsers, glanced at them a moment, and
then, tossing them aside, asked Mrs. Gaston if she could make some
cloth roundabouts.

"At what price?" was inquired.

"The usual price--thirty cents."

"Thirty cents for cloth jackets! Indeed, Michael, that is too
little. You used to give thirty-seven and a half."

"Can't afford to do it now, then. Thirty cents is enough. There are
plenty of women glad to get them even at that price."

"But it will take me a full day and a half to make a cloth jacket,
Michael."

"You work slow, that's the reason; a good sewer can easily make one
in a day; and that's doing pretty well these times."

"I don't know what you mean by pretty well, Michael," answered the
seamstress. "How do you think you could manage to support yourself