he article was
reached. Then Mr. O'Reilly and his assistants were accustomed to close
the haggle with a beautiful formula:

'To _you_,' they said, with confidential smiles and flattering emphasis
on the pronoun--'to _you_ the price will be one and a penny; but,
really, there will be no profit on the sale.'

Occasionally with timid and inexperienced customers O'Reilly's method
proved its value. Hyacinth saw him sell a dress-length of serge to a
young woman with a baby in her arms for a penny a yard more than he
had charged a moment before for the same material. Another thing which
struck him as he watched was the small amount of actual cash which was
paid across the counter. Most of the women, even those who seemed quite
poor, had accounts in the shop, and did not shrink from increasing
them. Once or twice a stranger presented some sort of a letter of
introduction, and was at once accommodated with apparently unlimited
credit.

At length there was a lull in the business, and Hyacinth succeeded in
spreading his goods on a vacant counter, and attracting the attention of
Mr. O'Reilly. He began with shawls.

'I hope,' he said, 'that you will give me a good order for these
shawls.'

Mr. O'Reilly fingered them knowingly.

'Price?' he said.

Hyacinth mentioned a sum which left a fair margin of profit for Mr.
Quinn. O'Reilly shook his head and laughed.

'Can't do it.'

Hyacinth reduced his price at once as far as possible.

'No use,' said Mr. O'Reilly.

Compared with the suave oratory to which he treated his customers, this
extreme economy of words was striking.

'See here,' he said, producing a bundle of shawls from a shelf beside
him. 'I get these for twenty-five shillings a dozen less from Thompson
and Taylor of Manchester.'

Hyacinth looked at them curiously. Each bore a prominent label setting
forth a name for the garment in large letters surrounded with wreaths
of shamrocks. 'The Colleen Bawn,' he read, 'Erin's Own,' 'The Kathleen
Mavourneen,' 'The Cruiskeen Lawn.' The appropriateness of this last
title was not obvious to the mere Irishman, but the colour of the
garment was green, so perhaps there was a connection of thought in the
maker's mind between that and 'Lawn.' 'Cruiskeen' he may have taken for
the name of a place.

'Are these,' asked Hyacinth, 'what you advertise as Irish goods?'

Mr. O'Reilly cleared his throat twice before he replied.

'They are got up specially for the Irish market.' In th