But the cunning dealer having once got the girl into conversation, handed her down a pot of mignionette, and begged her just to put her nose to that there. As she sniffed at the fragrant flowers, the man said he’d accept of anything, he didn’t mind what it was, how old or how dirty, for he had not taken a penny all that day. “Any old trowsers, Miss, if you’ll tell your ma, or an old hat, or a pair of boots—it’s all the same, Miss; though they a’n’t no use to you, they’re as good as money to us. Take that there pot in to your ma, Miss, and ax her just to put her nose to it, and then say whether she doesn’t think such a nosegay as that there a’n’t worth an old straw bonnet, or some white linen rags.” Elcy trotted in with the plant, vowing that she had never in all her life seen such beautiful flowers as the man had in his basket,—the geraniums quite made her eyes ache to look at them; and then she told her mother that the man said he would take anything for them, even old rags. The novelty of the transaction, the beauty of the plants, and the seeming wonderful cheapness of them, all produced such an effect upon Mrs. Sandboy’s mind, that she began to consider what useless article she had with her that she could offer the man in exchange for one of them. After much cogitation, they both came to the conclusion that the trowsers which Mr. Sandboys had worn in the morning were too shabby for him to put on in London; they were the “old things” said his wife, which he had split to pieces in going after that tiresome pig, and which, on second thoughts, she had considered quite good enough for him to travel in; and now, as the new ones she had bought him at Cockermouth had come to hand, why, there was no necessity for her keeping the others any longer; and she knew very well, unless she got rid of the nasty, shabby old things, Cursty would be making his appearance in them some day; whereas if she took them out in flowers, it would prevent his ever wearing them again. The determination once formed, Mrs. Sandboys motioned the flower-seller to the street-door, while Elcy was despatched to fetch the trowsers that her father had recently taken off. The street-seller, on seeing the garments, declared that they were hardly worth putting in his basket, and carrying home. “If the lady had got an old coat, he’d let her have that there handsome fuchsia for it, ’cause the skirts was valuable—let it be ever so much worn—for making cloth caps for boys, and the officers in the army; or, he wouldn’t mind chucking in that partic’lar fine ’artsease for an old weskit, for _they_ came in handy for parsons’ gaiters, but trowsers was no account at all; however, he didn’t like to be hard with the ladies so he’d give ’em that there lovely Chaney rose for the trowsers and a silver sixpence.”