"My friend, I have given my word that I would pay only twelve." "Your word? Your pardon, but to whom?" "To you." "Oh, then, how gladly I release you from your word!" "Twelve, Signore, or I go." "I can not." Buttons turned away. They walked along the street, and at length arrived at another clothier's. Just as they stepped in a hand was laid on Buttons's shoulder, and a voice cried out-- "Take it! Take it, Signore!" "Ah! I thought so. Twelve?" "Twelve." Buttons paid the money and directed where it should be sent. He found out afterward that the price which an Italian gentleman would pay was about ten piastres. There is no greater wonder than the patient waiting of an Italian tradesman, in pursuit of a bargain. The flexibility of the Italian conscience and imagination under such circumstances is truly astonishing. Dress makes a difference. The very expression of the face changes when one has passed from shabbiness into elegance. After Buttons had dressed himself in his gay attire his next thought was what to do with his old clothes. "Come and let us dispose of them." "Dispose of them!" "Oh, I mean get rid of them. I saw a man crouching in a corner nearly naked as I came up. Let us go and see if we can find him. I'd like to try the effect." They went to the place where the man had been seen. He was there still. A young man, in excellent health, brown, muscular, lithe. He had an old coverlet around his loins--that was all. He looked up sulkily. "Are you not cold?" "No," he blurted out, and turned away. "A boor," said Dick. "Don't throw away your charity on him." "Look here." The man looked up lazily. "Do you want some clothes?" No reply. "I've got some here, and perhaps will give them to you." The man scrambled to his feet. "Confound the fellow!" said Dick. "If he don't want them let's find some one who does." "Look here," said Buttons. He unfolded his parcel. The fellow looked indifferently at the things. "Here, take this," and he offered the pantaloons. The Italian took them and slowly put them on. This done, he stretched himself and yawned. "Take this." It was his vest. The man took the vest and put it on with equal _sang froid_. Again he yawned and stretched himself. "Here's a coat." Buttons held it out to the Italian. The fellow took it, surveyed it closely, felt in the pockets, and examined very critically the stiffening of the collar. Finally he put it on. He buttoned it closely around him, and passed his fingers through his matted hair. Then he felt the pockets once more. After which he yawned long and solemnly. This done, he looked earnestly at Buttons and Dick. He saw that they had nothing more. Upon which he turned on his heel, and without saying a word, good or bad, walked off with immense strides, turned a corner, and was out of sight. The two philanthropists were left staring at one another. At last they laughed. "That man is an original," said Dick. "Yes, and there is another," said Buttons.