"Ah? I supposed they were still on hand." "No, I placed them in the hands of Miller, and he has worked them all off for me at a considerable advance on former prices. He notified me, a week ago, that the lot was closed out, and rendered account sales at twelve and a half per piece." Lladd said all this seemingly unconscious that every word he was uttering fell like a blow upon his old customer. But he understood it all very well, and had caught the hard bargain maker in a trap he little dreamed had been laid for his feet. Eldon stammered out some half coherent responses, and took his departure with more evidences of his discomfiture in his face and manner than he wished to appear. He had, in fact, been paying twelve dollars and a half for the very goods he had sent back because he couldn't get them for ten dollars, at six months credit. Eldon did not understand how completely he had overreached himself, until a part of his establishment had been idle for days, and he had been compelled to go to New York, and purchase some fifty pieces of the goods he wanted, for cash, at twelve dollars per piece, a price that he is still compelled to pay, as neither Lladd nor any other importing house in the city has since ordered a case from abroad. So much for driving a hard bargain. OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE; OR, THE LOVE OF A HOUSE. "HADN'T you better give your landlord notice to-day, that we will move at the end of the year, Mr. Plunket?" "Move! For heaven's sake, Sarah, what do we want to move for?" "Mr. Plunket!" "Mrs. Plunket!" "It's a very strange way for you to address me, Mr. Plunket. A very strange way!" "But for what on earth do you want to move, Sarah? Tell me that. I'm sure we are comfortable enough off here." "Here! I wouldn't live in this miserable house another twelve months, if you gave me the rent free." "I don't see any thing so terribly bad about the house. I am well satisfied." "Are you, indeed! But I am not, I can tell you for your comfort." "What's the matter with the house?" "Every thing. There isn't a comfortable or decent room in it, from the garret to the cellar. Not one. It's a horrid place to live in; and such a neighbourhood to bring up children in!" "You thought it a 'love of a house' a year ago." "Me! Mr. Plunket, I never liked it; and it was all your fault that we ever took the miserable affair." "My fault! Bless me, Sarah, what are you talking about? I didn't want to move from where we were. _I never want to move_." "Oh, no, you'd live in a pigstye for ever, if you once got there, rather than take the trouble to get out of it." "Mrs. Plunket!" "Mr. Plunket!" Wise from experience, the gentleman deemed it better to run than fight. So, muttering to himself, he took up his hat and beat a hasty retreat.