I sh'd be ruther bashful to wear your swallertail, an' all them folks'll be strangers,' I says.

But he insisted on't that I sh'd come to dinner anyway, an' fin'ly I gin in, an' thinkin' I might 's well go the hull hog, I allowed I'd wear his clo'es; 'but if I do anythin' or say anythin' 't you don't like,' says I, 'don't say I didn't warn ye.' What would you 'a' done ?" Mr.Harum asked.
"Worn the clothes without the slightest hesitation," replied John.
"Nobody gave your costume a thought." "They didn't appear to, fer a fact," said David, "an' I didn't either, after I'd slipped up once or twice on the matter of pockets.

The same feller brought 'em up to me that fetched the stuff in the mornin'; an' the rig was complete--coat, vest, pants, shirt, white necktie, an', by gum! shoes an' silk socks, an', sir, scat my -- --! the hull outfit fitted me as if it was made fer me.

'Shell I wait on you, sir ?' says the man.

'No,' I says, 'I guess I c'n git into the things; but mebbe you might come up in 'bout quarter of an hour an' put on the finishin' touches, an' here,' I says, 'I guess that brand of eggs you give me this mornin' 's wuth about two dollars apiece.' "'Thank you, sir,' he says, grinnin', 'I'd like to furnish 'em right along at that rate, sir, an' I'll be up as you say, sir.'" "You found the way to _his_ heart," said John, smiling.
"My experience is," said David dryly, "that most men's hearts is located ruther closter to their britchis pockets than they are to their breast pockets." "I'm afraid that's so," said John.
"But this feller," Mr.Harum continued, "was a putty decent kind of a chap.