"
"They cost every cint of five dollars," said Bridget. "They was
made at one of the most fashionable shops in the city. Oh, they
was an illigant pair when they was new."
"How many years ago was that?" asked the pawnbroker.
"Only six months, and they ain't been worn more'n a month."
"I'll give you fifty cents."
"Fifty cints!" repeated Mrs. McCarty, turning to the other
customers, as if to call their attention to an offer so out of
proportion to the valuable article she held in her hand. "Only
fifty cints for these illigant breeches! Oh, it's you that's a
hard man, that lives on the poor and the nady."
"You needn't take it. I should lose money on it, if you didn't
redeem it."
"He says he'd lose money on it," said Mrs. McCarty. "And suppose
he did, isn't he a-rollin' in gold?"
"I'm poor," said Eliakim; "almost as poor as you, because I'm too
liberal to my customers."
"Hear till him!" said Mrs. McCarty. "He says he's liberal and
only offers fifty cints for these illigant breeches."
"Will you take them or leave them?" demanded the pawnbroker,
impatiently.
"You may give me the money," said Bridget; "and it's I that
wonder how you can slape in your bed, when you are so hard on
poor folks.
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