about the
house for nearly a year--and now, just as they were likely to be of some
service to me, you've sold them. It's just like you--always doing something
at the wrong time."

"How on earth, Stevens, was I to know you wanted them?"

"Well, there, Jule, they're gone; don't let's have any more talk about it.
Get me another cup of tea; I must go out immediately." After hastily
swallowing the second cup, Mr. Stevens left his home, and walked to an
omnibus-station, from whence he was quickly transported to a street in the
lower part of the city, in which were a number of second-hand clothing
stores. These places were supported principally by the country people who
attended the market in the same street, and who fancied that the clothing
they purchased at these shops must be cheap, because it was at second-hand.

Mr. Stevens stopped at the door of one of these establishments, and paused
to take a slight survey of the premises before entering. The doorway was
hung with coats of every fashion of the last twenty years, and all in
various stages of decay. Some of them looked quite respectable, from much
cleaning and patching; and others presented a reckless and forlorn aspect,
as their worn and ragged sleeves swung about in the evening air. Old hats,
some of which were, in all probability, worn at a period anterior to the
Revolution, kept company with the well-blacked shoes that were ranged on
shelves beside the doorway, where they served in the capacity of signs, and
fairly indicated the style of goods to be purchased within.

Seeing that there were no buyers in the store, Mr. Stevens opened the door,
and entered. The sounds of his footsteps drew from behind the counter no
less a personage than our redoubtable friend Kinch, who, in the absence of
his father, was presiding over the establishment.

"Well, Snowball," said Mr. Stevens, "do you keep this curiosity-shop?"

"My name is not Snowball, and this ain't a curiosity-shop," replied Kinch.
"Do you want to buy anything?"

"I believe I do," answered Mr. Stevens. "Let me look at some coats--one
that I can get on--I won't say fit me, I'm indifferent about that--let me
see some of the worst you've got."

Kinch looked surprised at this request from a gentleman of Mr. Stevens's
appearance, and handed out, quite mechanically, a coat that was but
slightly worn. "Oh, that won't do--I want something like this," said Mr.
Stevens, taking down from a peg a very dilapidated coat, o