The coarser, or at least blunter, Teutonic race have not cordially adopted this mode of human intercommunication. The advantage of the shrug is that in one slight gesture it contains an amount of meaning which otherwise would require many words. A good shrugger in Italy is admired, just as a good conversationist is in England, or a good stump orator in America. When the merchant shrugged, Buttons understood him and said: "You refuse? Then I go. Behold me!" "Ah, Signore, how can you thus endeavor to take advantage of the necessities of the poor?" "Signore, I must buy according to my ability." The Italian laughed long and quietly. The idea of an Englishman or American not having much money was an exquisite piece of humor. "Go not, Signore. Wait a little. Let me unfold more garments. Behold this, and this. You shall have many of my goods for twelve piastres." [Illustration: The Shrug.] "No, Signore; I must have this, or I will have none." "You are very hard, Signore. Think of my necessities. Think of the pressure of this present war, which we poor miserable tradesmen feel most of all." "Then addio, Signore; I must depart." They went out and walked six paces. "P-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-t!" (Another little idea of the Latin race. It is a much more penetrating sound than a loud Hallo! Ladies can use it. Children too. This would be worth importing to America.) "P-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-t!" Buttons and Dick turned. The Italian stood smiling and bowing and beckoning. "Take it for twenty-four piastres." "No, Signore; I can only pay twelve." With a gesture of ruffled dignity the shopkeeper withdrew. Again they turned away. They had scarcely gone ten paces before the shop-keeper was after them: "A thousand pardons. But I have concluded to take twenty." "No; twelve, and no more." "But think, Signore; only think." "I do think, my friend; I do think." "Say eighteen." "No, Signore." "Seventeen." "Twelve." "Here. Come back with me." They obeyed. The Italian folded the coat neatly, tied it carefully, stroked the parcel tenderly, and with a meek yet sad smile handed it to Buttons. "There--only sixteen piastres." Buttons had taken out his purse. At this he hurriedly replaced it, with an air of vexation. "I can only give twelve." "Oh, Signore, be generous. Think of my struggles, my expenses, my family. You will not force me to lose." "I would scorn to force you to any thing, and therefore I will depart." "Stop, Signore," cried the Italian, detaining them at the door. "I consent. You may take it for fourteen." "For Heaven's sake, Buttons, take it," said Dick, whose patience was now completely exhausted. "Take it." "Twelve," said Buttons. "Let me pay the extra two dollars, for my own peace of mind," said Dick. "Nonsense, Dick. It's the principle of the thing. As a member of the Dodge Club, too, I could not give more." "Thirteen, good Signore mine," said the Italian piteously.