Gilpin observer., 1917-07-12
Old Clothes

tunnys DeghH StOkeS, Us ne usHt-
ed up fresh one, "how much the
point Of view counts. 1t is absolutely
impossible for the buyer to see a
! thing with the same eyes with which
the seller. regards 1t. Week before
last I met up with an OIL clos man.
He was young, progressive and avari-
cious. He approached me and asked
me If had any old clothes. And
would I sell them? If so, he would
be pleased to call at my house.
II had old clothes, of course, and ad-
mitted it-they were choking my ward
robe and my wife had been complaint
ing that she hadn't place in the whole
house to put her own things. So I told
him to come around next morning. He
didn't seem to mind when l told him
lived up on Cathedral Heights. He
would be on hand at eight, he said.
And he was. He was there on the
dot-not a minute before or a min
ute after. He was all breeziness and
smiles. / felt sure he would be dis
POseu " Puy INC WAdI was AAeht' ACA-
ing him to wait a minute, I dashed up
stairs and returned with my arms
full Of coats, trousers and vests.
Understand, please, my state Of
mind. 1 was filled with pride of pos
session. These clothes were mine.
I am, as you know, rather fond of
dress. My tailor is one Of the best
in town-the highest-priced, anyway,
goodness knows. Every one of those
garments held in my arms was an
old friend. I had impaired to them,
perhaps, something Of my own indi-
yiduality. This added to the attach
ment I felt. 1 knew intimately every
pocket, every button. One vest had a
tiny spot on the front, where drop of
soup had fallen on 1t when Willie jog
ged my elbow at dinner. You will un-,
derstand, hope, just how keen was
the feeling of camaraderie between me
and those clothes.
II placed them reverently on the
floor at the feet of the OIL clos man.
He stopped, gingerly picked up coat
between thumb and forefinger and let
it drop. I looked into his face. 1t
was a picture of blank disappoint-
ment. I was piqued. 4 thought he
said. that you were going to bring
down some of your good Clothes
"'My dear fellow told him, those
clothes were made by Blank & Son.
But the OIL clos man was not visibly
impressed. He again picked Up the
coat that he had dropped a moment
before. He looked at the lining Of
the sleeve at the armpit, and then
looked at me reproachfully.
"'It's badly worm he said.
"'On the contrary retorted, rath-
er hotiy, it's scarcely worn at ALL
"'The elbows are shiny
ga little sponging will remedy
that. It's an all-wOol coat
"He rubbed the coat with damp
ened finger. Your tailor fooled you,'
he announced. It's half cotton. Did
you take me for a ragmanT he asked.
Nobody would buy these clothes un-
less 1 fixed them all over. couldn't
get any price for them at ALL He
picked up fancy vest, detected
frayed spot and cast 1t aside con-
temptuously. 4 wouldn't have come
. he said. only thought you had good
clothes. But I'm here, so I'll make you
an offer. Two dollars for the lot
II was shocked-really and truly
shocked-so shocked, in fact, that
didn't then feel the righteous indigna-
ton that should have welled up with
in me. I declared that I would give
them away first to the first beggar that
came to the door, to the man who
looks after the furnace, to anybody, be-
fore I would let those beautiful, good
as-new garments 60 at any such
blamed sacrifice.
"'well.' said the old clos man,
reaching for his hat.
"'Five dollars said I, with bogus
firmness.
"A spasm of pain crossed his face.
Five dollars! And where does my
profit come in7 A man must live.'
ave haggled and quibbled. Thrice
he started for the door; thrice threat
ened to return the garments to the
wardrobe. Come said at last, we
will split the difference
"He almost wept. Three-fifty for
those! And he kicked the pile con-
temptuously. Two-fifty-not a penny
more
II shook my head. You are vast
ing your time and mine said. He
counted out two dollars and fifty cents
two one-dollar bills and ffty-cent
piece-and held them toward me in
his palm. You are a hard man. he
said. You drive hard bargain. But