The shop was crowded when he entered, for it was market day in Clogher. The Irish country-people, whose manners otherwise are the best in the world, have one really objectionable habit. In the street or in a crowded building they push their way to the spot they want to reach, without the smallest regard for the feelings of anyone who happens to be in the way. Sturdy country-women, carrying baskets which doubled the passage room they required, hustled Hyacinth into a corner, and for a time defeated his efforts to emerge. Getting his case of samples safely between his legs, he amused himself watching the patriot shopkeeper and his assistants conducting their business. It was perfectly obvious that in one respect the announcements of the attractive placard departed from the truth: O’Reilly was not a ‘one-price man,’ He charged for every article what he thought his customers were likely to pay. The result was that every sale involved prolonged bargaining and heated argument. In most cases no harm was done. The country-women were keenly alive to the value of their money, and evidently enjoyed the process of beating down the price by halfpennies until the real value of the 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.’