"A couple of years ago," said Duffy, "I went back to Barnesboro. I got a wonderful welcome home. They put on a Duffy Daugherty night and gave me a dinner. But what I wanted to find out more than anything else was what had happened to Fred. I had realized my dream of going to college. But what about Fred—did he ever get his tailor-made suit?"
Duffy looked like he might be on the verge of tears.
"Yes," he said, "Fred had realized his dream. After years of backbreaking labor in the mines, he had saved up $300 and taken it to Adam Adamosky, the town tailor. 'Adam,' he said, 'I want you to make me the best tailor-made suit in town.' "
As Duffy told it, Adam advised Fred he couldn't have come in at a better time. He had the best bolt of cloth ever to be shipped into Cambria County. He would make Fred a tailor-made suit beyond his heart's desire.
There were fittings and more fittings, but at last the suit was ready. Fred put it on and swaggered down Main Street. At the corner of Main and Philadelphia, he ran into Miles Ranck, the editor of the Barnesboro Star. Ranck told Fred the suit looked fine, but there was one thing wrong with it. The left sleeve was a little short.
Talking through his nose, Duffy impersonated Fred rushing back to Adam Adamosky. Adam explained that the short sleeve was a natural consequence of using such exquisite material. All Fred had to do was keep pulling at the sleeve with his hand as he walked along and in a week the suit would be the finest in western Pennsylvania.
Duffy became Fred swinging proudly along Main Street, tugging at his left sleeve. He meets other friends. They tell him the suit is fine except for the fact that one of the lapels sticks up.
Back to Adam Adamosky and a new prescription. Fred is merely to hold his chin on the lapel and in a week's time the suit will be the suit of his dreams.
Duffy is Fred swinging along Main Street, tugging at his sleeve, holding his chin on his lapel. More friends and more compliments—except for one small criticism. The trousers are too full in the seat.
Again Adam has the answer. In a moment Duffy is Fred on Main Street, swinging across the stage, tugging at his left sleeve, holding his chin on his lapel and clutching the seat of his pants. He passes two strangers.