"Well, no," returned the owner of the coveted shirt with equal innocence, "can't say that I had. Why?"
"I was just wonderin' what for a cash value you'd put on a shirt like that."
Kansas considered.
"I couldn't rightly say off-hand just what I would hold that shirt at."
Mr. Brindell, speculatively:
"I b'leeve I'd look good in pink. Maybe I'll write off and git me one."
"No use doin' that—they ain't another shirt like that in the world—not exactly that same color, so they told me up in Coffeeville where I bought it."
"I suppose they took the gent what made that shirt and shovelled his brains out so he couldn't never make another," said Mr. Brindell dryly.
"It's a rare color all right; I've wore it considerable and I never see one like it. People kind a pick me out to look at when I got it on."
"Robin's-aig blue is a nice color for a shirt," observed Brindell reminiscently. "I mind how good I looked in one that was stole
