"In here, young gentlemen," said a black-whiskered individual,
who appeared suddenly on the scene. "Walk in."
"Shall we go in, Dick?"
"It's a swindlin' shop," said Dick, in a low voice. "I've been
there. That man's a regular cheat. He's seen me before, but he
don't know me coz of my clothes."
"Step in and see the articles," said the man, persuasively. "You
needn't buy, you know."
"Are all the articles worth more'n a dollar?" asked Dick.
"Yes," said the other, "and some worth a great deal more."
"Such as what?"
"Well, there's a silver pitcher worth twenty dollars."
"And you sell it for a dollar. That's very kind of you," said Dick,
innocently.
"Walk in, and you'll understand it."
"No, I guess not," said Dick. "My servants is so dishonest that I
wouldn't like to trust 'em with a silver pitcher. Come along, Frank.
I hope you'll succeed in your charitable enterprise of supplyin'
the public with silver pitchers at nineteen dollars less than they
are worth."
"How does he manage, Dick?" asked Frank, as they went on.
"All his articles are numbered, and he makes you pay a dollar, and
then shakes some dice, and whatever the figgers come to, is the
number of the article you draw. Most of 'em aint worth sixpence."
A hat and cap store being close at hand, Dick and Frank went in. For
seventy-five cents, which Frank insisted on paying, Dick succeeded
in getting quite a neat-looking cap, which corresponded much better
with his appearance than the one he had on.
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