Each bore a prominent label setting forth a name for the garment in large letters surrounded with wreaths of shamrocks.

'The Colleen Bawn,' he read, 'Erin's Own,' 'The Kathleen Mavourneen,' 'The Cruiskeen Lawn.' The appropriateness of this last title was not obvious to the mere Irishman, but the colour of the garment was green, so perhaps there was a connection of thought in the maker's mind between that and 'Lawn.' 'Cruiskeen' he may have taken for the name of a place.
'Are these,' asked Hyacinth, 'what you advertise as Irish goods ?' Mr.O'Reilly cleared his throat twice before he replied.
'They are got up specially for the Irish market.' In the interests of his employer Hyacinth kept his temper, but the effort was a severe one.
'These,' he said, 'are half cotton.

Mine are pure wool.

They are really far better value even if they were double the price.' Mr.O'Reilly shrugged his shoulders.
'I don't say they're not, but I should not sell one of yours for every dozen of the others.' 'Try,' said Hyacinth; 'give them a fair chance.

Tell the people that they will last twice as long.