Tom bent his steps in the direction of a large and popular clothing establishment, and, entering, looked about for an unoccupied salesman. "Well, boy, what's wanted?" asked a young man behind the counter. "I want some clo'es." "Then you've come to the right place. Did you buy them you have on here?" asked the salesman, with a grin. "Young feller," said Tom, "these clo'es were bought before you were born." "So I should think, from the looks." "I'd make 'em do for a few years longer, only I'm goin' to be married next week. Have you got any bridal suits?" "Step this way. I suppose you have got money to pay for them?" remarked the clerk, doubtfully. "You suppose right. Just lead the way, and I'll see what you've got." "How high are you willing to go?" "Anywhere from twenty-five cents to twenty-five dollars." "Our twenty-five cent suits are all out; but we can give you some for fifteen dollars, and as much more as you like." "Show me some at fifteen." Tom looked at some suits at this price. They were well made, but coarse, and did not quite come up to his ideas of what was appropriate for a young man of fortune. "Show me some for twenty-five dollars," he said. "These ain't good enough to be married in." Finally, Tom picked out a dark mixed suit, which appeared to be an exact fit. The price was twenty dollars, which he considered reasonable, and at once paid. "Shall I send them home for you?" asked the clerk, regarding our hero with more respect, now that he had shown himself a purchaser for cash. "Never mind; I'll take 'em myself," said Tom. "My carriage is waitin' outside, so it's no trouble." He left the store with the clothes under his arm. But he was not yet wholly provided. He had no shirts, stockings, or under-clothes, which he cared to wear in the new life upon which he was entering. All must be procured. He stopped at a cheap store in Nassau street, and provided himself with half a dozen of each, at a cost of twenty dollars more. By this time he found himself so encumbered with bundles that he thought it best to go home. He entered the room without attracting attention, and proceeded at once to throw off his old rags, and array himself in the new clothes, including a blue silk neck-tie which he had purchased. When his toilet was complete, he surveyed himself with no little complacency. For the first time in all the years that he could remember, he was attired, from top to toe, as a young gentleman. "Blest if I couldn't pass myself off for a young Fifth avenoodle," he said to himself. "I'll go down and see Mrs. Flanagan. I wonder if she'll know me?" He descended the stairs, and knocked at the door of the good-hearted Irishwoman. She did not recognize him, having no idea that it was Tom the bootblack. "Does Mrs. Flanagan live here?" asked Tom, slightly disguising his voice. "Yes, sir. Is it washing ye want me to do?" "Is there a boy named Tom lives here?" asked our hero. "He lives up stairs, just over this."