the dainty, sprigged gowns and high-collared coats amid which I
wandered somewhat disconsolate until by chance my wandering gaze
lighted upon a small, dingy shop in whose narrow window squatted a
small, humpbacked, bespectacled man plying needle and thread with
remarkable speed and dexterity. It was a small shop but so stuffed and
crammed with garments of all kinds that they had overflowed into the
street, for the narrow doorway was draped, choked and festooned with
coats, breeches, pantaloons, shirts, waistcoats, stockings, boots,
shoes, a riotous and apparently inextricable tangle.

Into this small and stuffy shop I forced myself a passage, whereupon
its small, busy proprietor glanced up at me over the rim of his large
spectacles.

"Well, son, what d'ye lack?" he demanded.

"Clothes, if you please," said I humbly.

"And that's no lie, neether--so ye do, by James!" he nodded.

"Can I purchase some?"

"If you've enough o' the rhino, son."

For answer I drew a bank note from my pocket at random and laid it
upon the small counter.

"You have, b' James!" quoth the little man, "a fi'-pun note!" And
thrusting needle into the garment he was making he rose with brisk
alacrity. "What d'ye want in my way, son?"