They were just the thing for my mantle pieces, and I covetted them on the instant.
"What's the price ?" I enquired.
"Got an old coat ?" was my only answer.

"Don't want money." My husband was the possessor of a coat that had seen pretty good service, and which he had not worn for some time.

In fact, it had been voted superannuated, and consigned to a dark corner of the clothes-press.

The thought of this garment came very naturally into my mind, and with the thought a pleasant exhilaration of feeling, for I already saw the vases on my mantles.
"Any old clothes ?" repeated the vender of china ware.
Without a word I left the dining room, and hurried up to where our large clothes-press stood, in the passage above.

From this I soon abstracted the coat, and then descended with quick steps.
The dull face of the old man brightened, the moment his eyes fell upon the garment.