"If you think I'm worth them." The tailor viciously snipped a piece of cloth.

"How can I pay you wages, if you stand there doing nothing ?" "This is my day for doing nothing," Charley answered pleasantly, for the tailor-man amused him, and the whimsical mental attitude of his past life was being brought to the surface by this odd figure, with big spectacles pushed up on a yellow forehead, and shrunken hands viciously clutching the shears.
"You don't mean to say you're not going to work to-day, and this suit of clothes promised for to-morrow night--for the Manor House too!" With a piece of chalk Charley idly made heads on brown paper.

"After all, why should clothes be the first thing in one's mind--when they are some one else's! It's a beautiful day outside.

I've never felt the sun so warm and the air so crisp and sweet--never in all my life." "Then where have you lived ?" snapped out the tailor with a sneer.

"You must be a Yankee--they have only what we leave over down there!"-- he jerked his head southward.