"Be quick about it, for I am in a hurry. So your house is on Fifth
Avenue, is it?"

"It isn't anywhere else," said Dick, and Dick spoke the truth there.

"What tailor do you patronize?" asked the gentleman,
surveying Dick's attire.

"Would you like to go to the same one?" asked Dick, shrewdly.

"Well, no; it strikes me that he didn't give you a very good fit."

"This coat once belonged to General Washington," said Dick,
comically. "He wore it all through the Revolution, and it got torn
some, 'cause he fit so hard. When he died he told his widder to give
it to some smart young feller that hadn't got none of his own; so
she gave it to me. But if you'd like it, sir, to remember General
Washington by, I'll let you have it reasonable."

"Thank you, but I wouldn't want to deprive you of it. And did your
pants come from General Washington too?"

"No, they was a gift from Lewis Napoleon. Lewis had outgrown 'em
and sent 'em to me,--he's bigger than me, and that's why they
don't fit."

"It seems you have distinguished friends. Now, my lad, I suppose you
would like your money."

"I shouldn't have any objection," said Dick.