A Difference In Price.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2480, 10 May 1909, Page 3

A Difference In Price.

One morning an unusually fine display of furs in one of the windows of a prominent furrier downtown attracted many an admiring glance from passers by. Two Btout colored women paused to admire the display. “There,” said the larger of the two, “am de very coat for me. I tell you dat’s a beauty,” and she pointed to a handsome wrap marked, “Just reduced to s2so.’’ “Let’sgo in an look at ’em.”

Her friend followed her into the store. The proprietor, Mr. L., was in the front part of the store and went forward with his best smile.

“Ladies, what can I do for you this morning?” “Wo wants to see dem coats like what’s in de winder,” was the response.

“If you will walk back in the store I will show you our entire lino. What price coat did you want?” “ ’Bout de same ns dat one is,” pointing to the one in the wdndow.

They walked back to the coat department and Mr. L. took down coat after coat with untiring zeal. At length one was found that just suited the would be purchaser.

“I guess I’ll take dis ef you’s sure it am de style and will wear, ’cause de price certainly am reasonable,” she declared. “Shall I send it for you.” asked Mr. L.

“No, I’ll jes’ pay you and take it along,” she said as she drew from her pocket and deposited on the counter two one dollar bills, one quarter, two tens and a five. “Why,” said Mr, L. in consternation, as he looked at the money; “this is only $3.50!” “Well, ain’t dis coat de same price ns dat one in de winder?” “Yes, but that in the window is worth 1250.” “What! Two hundred and fifty dollars for one coat! I never heard of such a thing!” she indignantly exclaimed, tossing the precious bundle on the counter. “He must ’a’ thought I was a Vanderbilt,” were her last words as she slammed the door behind her. Mr. L. rehung the $250 coats.—New York Recorder.

An Extra T.

Major Jolmstou is very particular about the spelling of his name. Ha is a very proud man on general principles. Nothing exasperates him more than to be mixed up typographically or otherwise with the common herd of Johnsons without a “t.” He was about leaving a hotel in Dallas. He had asked for his bill, and when it was handed him by the clerk he scowled fiercely. “Is there any mistake in the bill?” asked the clerk. “There is, sir. You have spelled my name without the V ” “Ah, I see,” replied the clerk. “You should be charged with an extra tea. Fifty cents more, if you please.”—Texas Siftings