Sam's Chance, and How He Improved It

"Why can't you?"

"I'd lose too much."

Opposition confirmed Sam in his determination to own it.

"Give it to me; I'll try it on," he said.

Putting it on, he surveyed himself with satisfaction, in a small, cracked mirror. True, it was about two sizes too large, but Sam felt that in getting more cloth he was getting a better bargain.

"That's my style," he said. "Don't I look fashionable?"

"I'll have to ask you twenty-five cents more for that coat," said the old dealer.

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I must. I ought to ask more."

"Then you may keep the rest of the clo'es. I don't want 'em."

Sam made a movement as if to leave the store.

"Give me twenty cents more, my son."

"Didn't I tell you I wasn't your son? I won't give you no twenty cents, but I'll tell you what I'll do – I'll give you these clo'es I've got on."

The old man looked at them dubiously.

"They ain't worth much," he said.

"I know they ain't but they're worth twenty cents."

There was another critical inspection, and the decision was given in Sam's favor.

"You may have the clo'es," said the old man. "Now, where's your money?"

Sam produced a five-dollar bill.

"Give me a dollar back," he said.

The old man looked at him with the expression of one who had been cheated.

"You said you had only four dollars," he complained.

"No, I didn't. I said I had four. I didn't say that was all."

"These clo'es are worth five dollars."

"No, they ain't, and you won't get it from me. Do you think I'm going to give you all the money I've got?"

The old man still looked dissatisfied. "I'm losin' money on these clo'es," he muttered.

"Oh, well if you don't want to sell 'em, you needn't," said Sam, independently. "There's another place round the corner."

"Give me four fifty."

"No, I won't. I won't give you another cent. I'll give you four dollars and these clo'es I have on. A bargain's a bargain. If you're goin' to do it, say the word; and if you ain't, I'm off."

Sam carried his point, and received back a dollar in change.

"You needn't send the clo'es round to my hotel – I'll change 'em here," said our hero.

He set to work at once, and in five minutes the change was effected. The other clothes fitted him moderately well, but the blue coat – of the kind popularly called a swallow-tail – nearly trailed upon the ground. But for that Sam cared little. He surveyed himself with satisfaction, and felt that he was well dressed.

"I guess I'll do now," he said to himself, complacently, as he walked out of the shop.

CHAPTER II.

SAM'S FIRST DAY IN BUSINESS

"Is the boss in?"

The speaker was Sam Barker, and the young man addressed was a clerk in the office of Henry Dalton & Co. He gazed with wonder and amusement at the grotesque figure before him.

"Have you business with Mr. Dalton?" he inquired.

"I should think I had," said Sam. "Is he in?"

"Not yet. He'll be here presently."

"All right. I'll wait."

Carefully parting the tails of his coat, Sam coolly deposited himself in an office chair, and looked about him.

"Are you in business for yourself?" asked the clerk.

"I have been," said Sam, "but I'm goin' to work for Mr. Dalton now."

"Did Mr. Dalton hire you?"

"Of course he did. He's goin' to pay me five dollars a week. How much does he pay you?"

"That's a secret," said the young man, good-naturedly.

"Is it? Well, I'll excuse you."

"You're very kind. That's a stylish coat you've got on."

"Isn't it?" said Sam, proudly, and rising from the chair he turned around in order to display fully the admired garment.