Joe the Hotel Boy; Or, Winning out by Pluck

“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 didn’t expect to wear the suit out on the lake, but in this case I’ll keep it on,” answered Joe.

“I find it pays to keep well dressed, when you take out the summer boarders,” answered the old boatman. “And it pays to keep the boats in good shape, too.”

“Where am I to get the party?”

“Over to the dock of Mallison’s Hotel. One of the ladies is Mallison’s niece.”

“Why don’t they take a hotel boat?”

“All engaged, two days ago. It’s a busy season. But I’ve got to be going. You had better go over to the dock at once. They want to go out at three o’clock sharp.”