Joe the Hotel Boy; Or, Winning out by Pluck. Alger Horatio Jr.

to go there for a suit. Instead he sought out a modest establishment on one of the side streets.

      Just ahead of him was an Irish couple who had evidently not been in this country many years. The man entered the store awkwardly, as if he did not feel at home. Not so his wife, who walked a little in advance of her husband.

      “Have you got any men’s coats?” said she to the clerk who came forward to wait on the pair. “If I can get one cheap for me husband here I’ll buy one.”

      “Oh, yes, madam,” was the ready reply. “We have the best stock in town, by all odds. You can’t fail to be suited.”

      So saying, he led the way to a counter piled high with the articles called for, and hauled them over.

      “There,” said he, pulling out one of a decidedly ugly pattern. “There is one of first quality cloth. It was made for a gentleman of this town, but did not exactly fit him, and so we’ll sell it cheap.”

      “And what is the price?”

      “Three dollars.”

      “Three dollars!” exclaimed the Irish lady, lifting up her hands in extreme astonishment.

      “Three dollars! You’ll be afther thinkin’ we’re made of money, sure! I’ll give you a dollar and a half.”

      “No, ma’am, we don’t trade in that way. We don’t very often take half what we ask for an article.”

      “Mike,” said she, “pull off yer coat an’ thry it on. Three dollars, and it looks as if it was all cotton.”

      “Not a thread of cotton in that,” was the clerk’s reply.

      “Not wan, but a good many, I’m thinkin’,” retorted the Irish lady, as she helped her husband draw on the coat. It fitted tolerably well and Mike seemed mightily pleased with his transformation.

      “Come,” said the wife. “What will ye take?”

      “As it’s you, I’ll take off twenty-five cents,” replied the clerk.

      “And sell it to me for two dollars?” inquired his customer, who had good cause for her inaccurate arithmetic.

      “For two dollars and seventy-five cents.”

      “Two dollars and seventy-five cents! It’s taking the bread out of the childer’s mouths you’d have us, paying such a price as that! I’ll give you two twenty-five, an’ I’ll be coming again some time.”

      “We couldn’t take so low as two twenty-five, ma’am. You may have it for two dollars and a half.”

      After another ineffectual attempt to get it for two dollars and a quarter, the Irish woman finally offered two dollars and forty-five cents, and this offer was accepted.

      She pulled out a paper of change and counted out two dollars and forty cents, when she declared that she had not another cent. But the clerk understood her game and coolly proceeded to put the coat back on the pile. Then the woman very opportunely found another five-cent piece stored away in the corner of her pocket.

      “It’s robbin’ me, ye are,” said she as she paid it over.

      “Oh, no, ma’am, you are getting a great bargain,” answered the clerk.

      Joe had witnessed the bargaining with a good deal of quiet amusement. As soon as the Irish couple had gone the clerk came toward the boy.

      “Well, young man, what can I do for you?” he asked, pleasantly.

      “I want a suit of clothing. Not an expensive suit, but one guaranteed to be all wool.”

      “A light or a dark suit?”

      “A dark gray.”

      “I can fit you out in a fine suit of this order,” and the clerk pointed to several lying in a heap nearby.

      “I don’t want that sort. I want something on the order of those in the window marked nine dollars and a half.”

      “Oh, all right.”

      Several suits were brought forth, and one was found that fitted Joe exceedingly well.

      “You guarantee this to be all wool?” asked the boy.

      “Every thread of it.”

      “Then I’ll take it.”

      “Very well; the price is twelve dollars.”

      “Isn’t it like that in the window?”

      “On that order, but a trifle better.”

      “It seems to me to be about the same suit. I’ll give you nine dollars and a half.”

      “I can’t take it. I’ll give it to you for eleven and a half. That is our best figure.”

      “Then I’ll go elsewhere for a suit,” answered Joe, and started to leave the clothing establishment.

      “Hold on, don’t be so fast!” cried the clerk, catching him by the arm. “I’ll make it eleven and a quarter.”

      “Not a cent more than the advertised price, nine and a half,” replied Joe, firmly.

      “Oh, but this isn’t the same suit.”

      “It’s just like it, to my eye. But you needn’t sell it for that if you don’t want it. Mason & Harris are offering some bargains, I believe.”

      “You can get a better bargain here than anywhere in this town, or in Philadelphia either,” answered the clerk, who did not intend to let his prospective customer get away. “We’ll make it an even eleven dollars and say no more about it.”

      Instead of answering Joe started once more for the door.

      “Hold on!”

      “I haven’t got time.”

      “Make it ten and a half. At that price we are losing exactly half a dollar on that suit.”

      “Not a cent over what I offered.”

      “We can’t sell suits at such a loss. It would ruin us.”

      “Then don’t do it. I think Mason & Harris have some good suits very cheap. And they are quite up-to-date, too,” added Joe.

      “Our suits are the best in town, young man. Take this one for an even ten dollar bill.”

      “I will if you’ll throw in one of those half dollar caps,” answered our hero.

      “Well, have your own way, but it’s a sacrifice,” grumbled the clerk.

      He wanted to wrap up the suit, but, afraid he might substitute something else, Joe insisted upon donning the suit then and there and likewise the new cap. Then he had the old articles of wearing apparel done up into a bundle and paid over the ten dollars.

      “You’re pretty smart after a bargain,” said the clerk.

      “I’ve got to be—when I strike such fellows as you,” was the reply.

      “You got a better bargain than that Irish woman did.”

      “I did—if the suit is all wool. But if it’s cotton, I’m stuck,” returned our hero, and with his bundle under his arm he walked from the store.

      He had left his rowboat in charge of an old boatman named Ike Fairfield, and now he walked down to the boathouse.

      “Just in time, Joe,” said the old boatman. “Want to earn a dollar?”

      “To be sure I do,” answered our hero.

      “A party of ladies want a long row around the lake. You can have the job.”

      “All right, Ike.”

      “I charged them a dollar and a quarter. I’ll keep the quarter for my commission.”

      “That is fair.”

      “One of the ladies said she wanted somebody that looked pretty decent. I think you’ll fill the bill with that new suit.”

      “I