The Small Drygoods Company's order was the forerunner of a busy season
that taxed the energies of not only Abe and Morris but of their entire
business staff as well, and when the hot weather set in, Morris could
not help noticing the fagged-out appearance of Miss Cohen the
bookkeeper.
"We should give that girl a vacation, Abe," he said. "She worked hard
and we ought to show her a little consideration."
"I know, Mawruss," Abe replied; "but she ain't the only person what
works hard around here, Mawruss. I work hard, too, Mawruss, but I ain't
getting no vacation. That's a new _idee_ what you got, Mawruss."
"Everybody gives it their bookkeeper a vacation, Abe," Morris protested.
"Do they?" Abe rejoined. "Well, if bookkeepers gets vacations, Mawruss,
where are we going to stop? First thing you know, Mawruss, we'll be
giving cutters vacations, and operators vacations, and before we get
through we got our workroom half empty yet and paying for full time
already. If she wants a vacation for two weeks I ain't got no
objections, Mawruss, only we don't pay her no wages while she's gone."
"You can't do that, Abe," Morris said. "That would be laying her off,
Abe; that wouldn't be no vacation."
"But we got to have somebody here to keep our books while she's away,
Mawruss," Abe cried. "We got to make it a living, Mawruss. We can't shut
down just because Miss Cohen gets a vacation. And so it stands, Mawruss,
we got to pay Miss Cohen wages for doing _nothing_, Mawruss, and also we
got to pay it wages to somebody else for doing something what Miss Cohen
should be doing when she ain't, ain't it?"
"Sure, we got to get a substitute for her while she's away," Morris
agreed; "but I guess it won't break us."
"All right, Mawruss," Abe replied; "if I got to hear it all summer about
this here vacation business I'm satisfied. I got enough to do in the
store without worrying about that, Mawruss. Only one thing I got to say
it, Mawruss: we got to have a bookkeeper to take her place while she's
away, and you got to attend to _that_, Mawruss. That's all I got to
say."
Morris nodded and hastened to break the good news to Miss Cohen, who for
the remainder of the week divided her time between Potash & Perlmutter's
accounts and a dozen multicolored railroad folders.
"Look at that, Mawruss," Abe said as he gazed through the glass paneling
of the show-room toward the bookkeeper's desk. "That girl ain't done it
a stroke of work since we told her she could go already. What are we
running here, anyway: a cloak and suit business or a cut-rate ticket
office?"
"Don't you worry about _her_, Abe," Morris replied. "She's got her
cashbook and daybook posted and she also got it a substitute. He's
coming this afternoon."
"_He's_ coming?" Abe said. "So she got it a young _feller_, Mawruss?"
"Well, Abe," Morris replied, "what harm is there in that? He's a decent,
respectable young feller by the name Tuchman, what works as bookkeeper
by the Kosciusko Bank. They give him a two weeks' vacation and he comes
to work by us, Abe."
"That's a fine way to spend a vacation, Mawruss," Abe commented. "Why
don't he go up to Tannersville or so?"
"Because he's got to help his father out nights in his cigar store what
he keeps it on Avenue B," Morris answered. "His father is Max Tuchman's
brother. You know Max Tuchman, drummer for Lapidus & Elenbogen?"
"Sure I know him--a loud-mouth feller, Mawruss; got a whole lot to say
for himself. A sport and a gambler, too," Abe said. "He'd sooner play
auction pinochle than eat, Mawruss. I bet you he turns in an expense
account like he was on a honeymoon every trip. The last time I seen this
here Max Tuchman was up in Duluth. He was riding in a buggy with the
lady buyer from Moe Gerschel's cloak department."
"Well, I suppose he sold her a big bill of goods, too, Abe, ain't it?"
Morris rejoined. "He's an up-to-date feller, Abe. If anybody wants to
sell goods to lady buyers they got to be up-to-date, ain't it? And so
far what I hear it nobody told it me you made such a big success with
lady buyers, neither, Abe."
Abe shrugged his shoulders.
"That ain't here nor there, Mawruss," he grunted. "The thing is this:
if this young feller by the name of Tuchman does Miss Cohen's work as
good as Miss Cohen does it I'm satisfied."
There was no need for apprehension on that score, however, for when the
substitute bookkeeper arrived he proved to be an accurate and
industrious young fellow, and despite Miss Cohen's absence the work of
Potash & Perlmutter's office proceeded with orderly dispatch.
"That's a fine young feller, Mawruss," Abe commented as he and his
partner sat in the firm's show-room on the second day of Miss Cohen's
vacation.
"Who's this you're talking about?" Morris asked.
"This here bookkeeper," Abe replied. "What's his first name, now,
Mawruss?"
"Ralph," Morris said.
"Ralph!" Abe cried. "That's a name I couldn't remember it in a million
years, Mawruss."
"Why not, Abe?" Morris replied. "Ralph ain't no harder than Moe or Jake,
Abe. For my part, I ain't got no trouble in remembering that name; and
anyhow, Abe, why should an up-to-date family like the Tuchmans give
their boys such back-number names like Jake or Moe?"
"Jacob and Moses was decent, respectable people in the old country,
Mawruss," Abe corrected solemnly.
"I know it, Abe," Morris rejoined; "but that was long since many years
ago already. _Now_ is another time entirely in New York City; and
anyhow, with such names what we got it in our books, Abe, you shouldn't
have no trouble remembering Ralph."
"Sure not," Abe agreed, dismissing the subject. "So, I'll call him Ike.
For two weeks he wouldn't mind it."
Morris shrugged. "For my part, you can call him Andrew Carnegie," he
said; "only, let's not stand here talking about it all day, Abe. I see
by the paper this morning that Marcus Bramson, from Syracuse, is at the
Prince William Hotel, Abe, and you says you was going up to see him.
That's your style, Abe: an old-fashion feller like Marcus Bramson. If
you couldn't sell _him_ a bill of goods, Abe, you couldn't sell
_nobody_. He ain't no lady buyer, Abe."
Abe glared indignantly at his partner. "Well, Mawruss," he said, "if you
ain't satisfied with the way what I sell goods you know what you can do.
I'll do the inside work and you can go out on the road. It's a dawg's
life, Mawruss, any way you look at it; and maybe, Mawruss, you would
have a good time taking buggy rides with lady buyers. For my part,
Mawruss, I got something better to do with my time."
He seized his hat, still glaring at Morris, who remained quite unmoved
by his partner's indignation.
"I heard it what you tell me now several times before already, Abe," he
said; "and if you want it that Max Tuchman or Klinger & Klein or some of
them other fellers should cop out a good customer of ours like Marcus
Bramson, Abe, maybe you'll hang around here a little longer."
Abe retorted by banging the show-room door behind him, and as he
disappeared into the street Morris indulged in a broad, triumphant grin.
When Abe returned an hour later he found Morris going over the monthly
statements with Ralph Tuchman. Morris looked up as Abe entered.
"What's the matter, Abe?" he cried. "You look worried."
"Worried!" Abe replied. "I ain't worried, Mawruss."
"Did you seen Marcus Bramson?" Morris asked.
"Sure I seen him," said Abe; "he's coming down here at half-past three
o'clock this afternoon. You needn't trouble yourself about _him_,
Mawruss."
Abe hung up his hat, while Morris and Ralph Tuchman once more fell to
the work of comparing the statements.
"Look a-here, Mawruss," Abe said at length: "who d'ye think I seen it up
at the Prince William Hotel?"
"I ain't no mind reader, Abe," Morris replied. "Who _did_ you seen it?"
"Miss Atkinson, cloak buyer for the Emporium, Duluth," Abe replied.
"That's Moe Gerschel's store."
Morris stopped comparing the statements, while Ralph Tuchman continued
his writing.
"She's just come in from the West, Mawruss," Abe went on. "She ain't
registered yet when I was going out, and she won't be in the Arrival of
Buyers till to-morrow morning."
"Did you speak to her?" Morris asked.
"Sure I spoke to her," Abe said. "I says good-morning, and she
recognized me right away. I asked after Moe, and she says he's well; and
I says if she comes down here for fall goods; and she says she ain't
going to talk no business for a couple of days, as it's a long time
already since she was in New York and she wants to look around her. Then
I says it's a fine weather for driving just now."
He paused for a moment and looked at Morris.
"Yes," Morris said, "and what did she say?"
"She says sure it is," Abe continued, "only, she says she got thrown out
of a wagon last fall, and so she's kind of sour on horses. She says
nowadays she don't go out except in oitermobiles."
"Oitermobiles!" Morris exclaimed, and Ralph Tuchman, whose protruding
ears, sharp-pointed nose and gold spectacles did not belie his
inquisitive disposition, ceased writing to listen more closely to
Abe's story.
"That's what she said, Mawruss," Abe replied; "and so I says for my
part, I liked it better oitermobiles as horses."
"Why, Abe," Morris cried, "you ain't never rode in an oitermobile in all
your life."
"Sure not, Mawruss, I'm lucky if I get to a funeral oncet in a while.
Ike," he broke off suddenly, "you better get them statements mailed."
Ralph Tuchman rose sadly and repaired to the office.
"That's a smart young feller, Mawruss," Abe commented, "and while you
can't tell much about a feller from his face, Mawruss, I never seen them
long ears on anyone that minded his own business, y'understand? And
besides, I ain't taking no chances on his Uncle Max Tuchman getting
advance information about this here Moe Gerschel's buyer."
Morris nodded. "Maybe you're right, Abe," he murmured.
"You was telling me what this Miss Abrahamson said, Abe."
"Miss Atkinson, Mawruss," Abe corrected, "_not_ Abrahamson."
"Well, what did she say?" Morris asked.
"So she asks me if I ever went it oitermobiling," Abe went on, "and I
says sure I did, and right away quick I seen it what she means; and I
says how about going this afternoon; and she says she's agreeable. So I
says, Mawruss, all right, I says, we'll mix business with pleasure, I
says. I told her we'll go in an oitermobile to the Bronix already, and
when we come back to the store at about, say, five o'clock we'll look
over the line. Then after that we'll go to dinner, and after dinner we
go to theayter. How's that, Mawruss?"
"I heard it worse idees than that, Abe," Morris replied; "because if
you get this here Miss Aaronson down here in the store, naturally, she
thinks if she gives us the order she gets better treatment at the dinner
and at the theayter afterward."
"That's the way I figured it out, Mawruss," Abe agreed; "and also, I
says to myself, Mawruss will enjoy it a good oitermobile ride."
"_Me!_" Morris cried. "What have I got to do with this here oitermobile
ride, Abe?"
"What have _you_ got to do with it, Mawruss?" Abe repeated. "Why,
Mawruss, I'm surprised to hear you, you should talk that way. You got
everything to do with it. I'm a back number, Mawruss; I don't know
nothing about selling goods to lady buyers, ain't it? You say it
yourself, a feller has got to be up-to-date to sell goods to lady
buyers. So, naturally, you being the up-to-date member of this concern,
you got to take Miss Atkinson out in the oitermobile."
"But, Abe," Morris protested, "I ain't never rode in an oitermobile, and
there wouldn't be no pleasure in it for me, Abe. Why don't _you_ go,
Abe? You say it yourself you lead it a dawg's life on the road. Now,
here's a chance for you to enjoy yourself, Abe, and _you_ should go.
Besides, Abe, you got commercial travelers' accident insurance,
and I ain't."
"The oitermobile ain't coming till half-past one, Mawruss," Abe
replied; "between now and then you could get it a _hundred_ policies
of accident insurance. No, Mawruss, this here lady-buyer business is
up to you. I got a pointer from Sol Klinger to ring up a concern on
Forty-sixth Street, which I done so, and fifteen dollars it costed me.
That oitermobile is coming here for you at half-past one, and after
that all you got to do is to go up to the Prince William Hotel and
ask for Miss Atkinson."
"But, Abe," Morris protested, "I don't even know this here Miss
Isaacson."
"_Not_ Isaacson," Abe repeated; "Atkinson. You'd better write that name
down, Mawruss, before you forget it."
"Never mind, Abe," Morris rejoined. "I don't need to write down things
to remember 'em. I don't have to call a young feller out of his name
just because my memory is bad, Abe. The name I'll remember good enough
when it comes right down _to_ it. Only, why should I go out
oitermobiling riding with this Miss Atkinson, Abe? I'm the inside
partner, ain't it? And you're the outside man. Do you know what I think,
Abe? I think you're scared to ride in an oitermobile."
"Me scared!" Abe cried. "Why should I be scared, Mawruss? A little thing
like a broken leg or a broken arm, Mawruss, don't scare me. I ain't
going because it ain't my business to go. It's your idee, this
lady-buyer business, and if you don't want to go we'll charge
the fifteen dollars what I paid out to profit and loss and call
the whole thing off."
He rose to his feet, thrust out his waist-line and made a dignified
exit by way of closing the discussion. A moment later, however, he
returned with less dignity than haste.
"Mawruss," he hissed, "that young feller--that--that--now, Ike--is
telephoning."
"Well," Morris replied, "one telephone message ain't going to put us
into bankruptcy, Abe."
"Bankruptcy, nothing!" Abe exclaimed. "He's telephoning to his Uncle
Max Tuchman."
Morris jumped to his feet, and on the tips of their toes they darted to
the rear of the store.
"All right, Uncle Max," they heard Ralph Tuchman say. "I'll see you
to-night. Good-by."
Abe and Morris exchanged significant glances, while Ralph slunk guiltily
away to Miss Cohen's desk.
"Let's fire him on the spot," Abe said.
Morris shook his head. "What good will _that_ do, Abe?" Morris replied.
"We ain't certain that he told Max Tuchman nothing, Abe. For all you and
me know, Max may of rung _him_ up about something quite different
already."
"I believe it, Mawruss," Abe said ironically. "But, anyhow, I'm going
to ring up that oitermobile concern on Forty-sixth Street and tell 'em
to send it around here at twelve o'clock. Then you can go up there to
the hotel, and if that Miss Atkinson ain't had her lunch yet buy it for
her, Mawruss, for so sure as you stand there I bet yer that young
feller, Ike, has rung up this here Max Tuchman and told him all about us
going up there to take her out in an oitermobile. I bet yer Max will get
the biggest oitermobile he can find up there right away, and he's going
to steal her away from us, sure, if we don't hustle."
"Dreams you got it, Abe," Morris said. "How should this here young
feller, Ralph Tuchman, know that Miss Aaronson was a customer of his
Uncle Max Tuchman, Abe?"
Abe looked at Morris more in sorrow than in anger. "Mawruss," he said,
"do me the favor once and write that name down. A-T at, K-I-N kin, S-O-N
son, Atkinson--_not_ Aaronson."
"That's what I said--Atkinson--Abe," Morris protested; "and if you're so
scared we're going to lose her, Abe, go ahead and 'phone. We got to sell
goods to lady buyers _some time_, Abe, and we may as well make the break
_now_."
Abe waited to hear no more, but hastened to the 'phone, and when he
returned a few minutes later he found that Morris had gone to the barber
shop across the street. Twenty minutes afterward a sixty-horsepower
machine arrived at the store door just as Morris came up the steps of
the barber shop underneath Wasserbauer's Cafe and Restaurant. He almost
bumped into Philip Plotkin, of Kleinberg & Plotkin, who was licking the
refractory wrapper of a Wheeling stogy, with one eye fixed on the
automobile in front of his competitors' store.
"Hallo, Mawruss," Philip cried. "Pretty high-toned customers you must
got it when they come down to the store in oitermobiles, ain't it?"
Morris flashed his gold fillings in a smile of triumphant superiority.
"That ain't no customer's oitermobile, Philip," he said. "That's for
_us_ an oitermobile, what we take it out our customers riding in."
"Why don't you take it out credit men from commission houses riding,
Mawruss?" Philip rejoined as Morris stepped from the curb to cross the
street. This was an allusion to the well-known circumstance that with
credit men a customer's automobile-riding inspires as much confidence as
his betting on the horse races, and when Morris climbed into the tonneau
he paid little attention to Abe's instructions, so busy was he glancing
around him for prying credit men. At length, with a final jar and jerk
the machine sprang forward, and for the rest of the journey Morris' mind
was emptied of every other apprehension save that engendered of passing
trucks or street cars. Finally, the machine drew up in front of the
Prince William and Morris scrambled out, trembling in every limb. He
made at once for the clerk's desk.
"Please send this to Miss Isaacson," he said, handing out a firm card.
The clerk consulted an index and shook his head. "No Miss Isaacson
registered here," he said.
"Oh, sure not," Morris cried, smiling apologetically. "I mean Miss
Aaronson."
Once more the clerk pawed over his card index. "You've got the wrong
hotel," he declared. "I don't see any Miss Aaronson here, either."
Morris scratched his head. He mentally passed in review Jacobson,
Abrahamson, and every other Biblical proper name combined with the
suffix "son," but rejected them all.
"The lady what I want to see it is buyer for a department store in
Duluth, what arrived here this morning," Morris explained.
"Let me see," the clerk mused; "buyer, hey? What was she a buyer of?"
"Cloaks and suits," Morris answered.
"Suits, hey?" the clerk commented. "Let me see--buyer of suits. Was that
the lady that was expecting somebody with an automobile?"
Morris nodded emphatically.
"Well, that party called for her and they left here about ten minutes
ago," the clerk replied.
"What!" Morris gasped.
"Maybe it was five minutes ago," the clerk continued. "A gentleman
with a red tie and a fine diamond pin. His name was Tucker or
Tuckerton or----"
"Tuchman," Morris cried.
"That's right," said the clerk; "he was a----"
But Morris turned on his heel and darted wildly toward the entrance.
"Say!" he cried, hailing the carriage agent, "did you seen it a lady
and a gent in an oitermobile leave here five minutes ago?"
"Ladies and gents leave here in automobiles on an average of every three
minutes," said the carriage agent.
"Sure, I know," Morris continued, "but the gent wore it a red tie with a
big diamond."
"Red tie with a big diamond," the carriage agent repeated. "Oh, yeh--I
remember now. The lady wanted to know where they was going, and the red
necktie says up to the Heatherbloom Inn and something about getting back
to his store afterward."
Morris nodded vigorously.
"So I guess they went up to the Heatherbloom Inn," the carriage
agent said.
Once more Morris darted away without waiting to thank his informant, and
again he climbed into the tonneau of the machine.
"Do you know where the Heatherbloom Inn is?" he asked the chauffeur.
"What you tryin' to do?" the chauffeur commented. "Kid me?"
"I ain't trying to do _nothing_," Morris explained. "I ask it you a
simple question: Do you know where the Heatherbloom Inn is?"
"Say! do you know where Baxter Street is?" the chauffeur asked, and
then without waiting for an answer he opened the throttle and they
glided around the corner into Fifth Avenue. It was barely half-past
twelve and the tide of fashionable traffic had not yet set in. Hence the
motor car made good progress, nor was it until Fiftieth Street was
reached that a block of traffic caused them to halt. An automobile had
collided with a delivery wagon, and a wordy contest was waging between
the driver of the wagon, the chauffeur, one of the occupants of the
automobile and a traffic-squad policeman.
"You don't know your business," a loud voice proclaimed, addressing the
policeman. "If you did you wouldn't be sitting up there like a dummy
already. This here driver run into _us_. We didn't run into him."
It was the male occupant of the automobile that spoke, and in vain did
his fair companion clutch at the tails of the linen duster that he wore;
he was in the full tide of eloquence and thoroughly enjoying himself.
The mounted policeman maintained his composure--the calm of a volcano
before its eruption, the ominous lull that precedes the tornado.
"And furthermore," continued the passenger, throwing out his chest,
whereon sparkled a large diamond enfolded in crimson silk--"and
furthermore, I'll see to it that them superiors of yours down below
hears of it."
The mounted policeman jumped nimbly from his horse, and as Morris rose
in the tonneau of his automobile he saw Max Tuchman being jerked bodily
to the street, while his fair companion shrieked hysterically.
Morris opened the door and sprang out. With unusual energy he wormed
his way through the crowd that surrounded the policeman and approached
the side of the automobile.
"Lady, lady," he cried, "I don't remember your name, but I'm a friend of
Max Tuchman here, and I'll get you out of this here crowd in a minute."
He opened the door opposite to the side out of which Tuchman had made
his enforced exit, and offered his hand to Max's trembling companion.
The lady hesitated a brief moment. Any port in a storm, she argued to
herself, and a moment later she was seated beside Morris in the latter's
car, which was moving up the Avenue at a good twenty-mile gait. The
chauffeur took advantage of the traffic policeman's professional
engagement with Max Tuchman, and it was not until the next mounted
officer hove into view that he brought his car down to its lawful gait.
"If you're a friend of Mr. Tuchman's," said the lady at length, "why
didn't you go with him to the police station and bail him out?"
Morris grinned. "I guess you'll know when I tell it you that my name is
Mr. Perlmutter," he announced, "of Potash & Perlmutter."
The lady turned around and glanced uneasily at Morris. "Is that so?"
she said. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Perlmutter."
"So, naturally, I don't feel so bad as I might about it," Morris
went on.
"Naturally?" the lady commented. She looked about her apprehensively.
"Perhaps we'd better go back to the Prince William. Don't you think so?"
"Why, you was going up to the Heatherbloom Inn with Max Tuchman, wasn't
you?" Morris said.
"How did you find _that_ out?" she asked.
"A small-size bird told it me," Morris replied jocularly. "But,
anyhow, no jokes nor nothing, why shouldn't we go up and have
lunch at the Heatherbloom Inn? And then you can come down and
look at our line, anyhow."
"Well," said the lady, "if you can show me those suits as well as Mr.
Tuchman could, I suppose it really won't make any difference."
"I can show 'em to you _better_ than Mr. Tuchman could," Morris said;
"and now so long as you are content to come downtown we won't talk
business no more till we get there."
They had an excellent lunch at the Heatherbloom Inn, and many a hearty
laugh from the lady testified to her appreciation of Morris' naive
conversation. The hour passed pleasantly for Morris, too, since the
lady's unaffected simplicity set him entirely at his ease. To be sure,
she was neither young nor handsome, but she had all the charm that
self-reliance and ability give to a woman.
"A good, smart, business head she's got it," Morris said to himself,
"and I wish I could remember that name."
Had he not feared that his companion might think it strange, he would
have asked her name outright. Once he called her Miss Aaronson, but the
look of amazement with which she favored him effectually discouraged
him from further experiment in that direction. Thenceforth he called
her "lady," a title which made her smile and seemed to keep her in
excellent humor.
At length they concluded their meal--quite a modest repast and
comparatively reasonable in price--and as they rose to leave Morris
looked toward the door and gasped involuntarily. He could hardly believe
his senses, for there blocking the entrance stood a familiar bearded
figure. It was Marcus Bramson--the conservative, back-number Marcus
Bramson--and against him leaned a tall, stout person not quite as young
as her clothes and wearing a large picture hat. Obviously this was not
Mrs. Bramson, and the blush with which Marcus Bramson recognized Morris
only confirmed the latter's suspicions.
Mr. Bramson murmured a few words to the youthfully-dressed person at his
side, and she glared venomously at Morris, who precipitately followed
his companion to the automobile. Five minutes afterward he was chatting
with the lady as they sped along Riverside Drive.
"Duluth must be a fine town," he suggested.
"It is indeed," the lady agreed. "I have some relatives living there."
"That should make it pleasant for you, lady," Morris went on, and
thereafter the conversation touched on relatives, whereupon Morris
favored his companion with a few intimate details of his family life
that caused her to laugh until she was completely out of breath. To be
sure, Morris could see nothing remarkably humorous about it himself, and
when one or two anecdotes intended to be pathetic were received with
tears of mirth rather than sympathy he felt somewhat annoyed.
Nevertheless, he hid his chagrin, and it was not long before the
familiar sign of Wasserbauer's Cafe and Restaurant warned Morris that
they had reached their destination. He assisted his companion to alight
and ushered her into the show-room.
"Just a minute, lady," he said, "and I'll bring Mr. Potash here."
"But," the lady protested, "I thought Mr. Lapidus was the gentleman who
had charge of it."
"_That's_ all right," Morris said, "you just wait and I'll bring Mr.
Potash here."
He took the stairs to the cutting-room three at a jump. "Abe," he cried,
"Miss Aaronson is downstairs."
Abe's face, which wore a worried frown, grew darker still as he regarded
his partner malevolently. "What's the matter with you, Mawruss?" he
said. "Can't you remember a simple name like Atkinson?"
"Atkinson!" Morris cried. "That's it--_Atkinson_. I've been trying to
remember it that name for four hours already. But, anyhow, she's
downstairs, Abe."
Abe rose from his task and made at once for the stairs, with Morris
following at his heels. In four strides he had reached the show-room,
but no sooner had he crossed the threshold than he started back
violently, thereby knocking the breath out of Morris, who was nearly
precipitated to the floor.
"Morris," he hissed, "who is that there lady?"
"Why," Morris answered, "that's Miss Aaronson--I mean Atkinson--ain't
it?"
"Atkinson!" Abe yelled. "That ain't Miss Atkinson."
"Then who _is_ she?" Morris asked.
"Who _is_ she?" Abe repeated. "That's a fine question for you to ask
_me_. You take a lady for a fifteen-dollar oitermobile ride, and spend
it as much more for lunch in her, _and you don't even know her name_!"
A cold perspiration broke out on Morris and he fairly staggered into the
show-room. "Lady," he croaked, "do me a favor and tell me what is your
name, please."
The lady laughed. "Well, Mr. Perlmutter," she said, "I'm sure this is
most extraordinary. Of course, there is such a thing as combining
business and pleasure; but, as I told Mr. Tuchman when he insisted on
taking me up to the Heatherbloom Inn, the Board of Trustees control the
placing of the orders. I have only a perfunctory duty to perform when I
examine the finished clothing."
"Board of Trustees!" Morris exclaimed.
"Yes, the Board of Trustees of the Home for Female Orphans of Veterans,
at Oceanhurst, Long Island. I am the superintendent--Miss Taylor--and I
had an appointment at Lapidus & Elenbogen's to inspect a thousand
blue-serge suits. Lapidus & Elenbogen were the successful bidders, you
know. And there was really no reason for Mr. Tuchman's hospitality,
since I had nothing whatever to do with their receiving the contract,
nor could I possibly influence the placing of any future orders."
Morris nodded slowly. "So you ain't Miss Atkinson, then, lady?" he said.
The lady laughed again. "I'm very sorry if I'm the innocent recipient
under false pretenses of a lunch and an automobile ride," she said,
rising. "And you'll excuse me if I must hurry away to keep my
appointment at Lapidus & Elenbogen's? I have to catch a train back to
Oceanhurst at five o'clock, too."
She held out her hand and Morris took it sheepishly.
"I hope you'll forgive me," she said.
"I can't blame _you_, lady," Morris replied as they went toward the
front door. "It ain't _your_ fault, lady."
He held the door open for her. "And as for that Max Tuchman," he said,
"I hope they send him up for life."
Abe stood in the show-room doorway as Morris returned from the front of
the store and fixed his partner with a terrible glare. "Yes, Mawruss,"
he said, "you're a fine piece of work, I must say."
Morris shrugged his shoulders and sat down. "That's what comes of not
minding your own business," he retorted. "I'm the inside, Abe, and
you're the outside, and it's your business to look after the out-of-town
trade. I told you I don't know nothing about this here lady-buyer
business. You ordered the oitermobile. I ain't got nothing to do with
it, and, anyhow, I don't want to hear no more about it."
A pulse was beating in Abe's cheeks as he paced up and down before
replying.
"_You_ don't want to hear no more about it, Mawruss, I know," he said;
"but _I_ want to hear about it. I got a _right_ to hear about it,
Mawruss. I got a right to hear it how a man could make such a fool out
of himself. Tell me, Mawruss, what name did you ask it for when you went
to the clerk at the Prince William Hotel?"
Morris jumped to his feet. "Lillian Russell!" he roared, and banged the
show-room door behind him.
For the remainder of the day Morris and Abe avoided each other, and it
was not until the next morning that Morris ventured to address his
partner.
"Did you get it any word from Marcus Bramson?" he asked.
"I ain't seen nor heard nothing," Abe replied. "I can't understand it,
Mawruss; the man promised me, mind you, he would be here sure. Maybe you
seen him up to the hotel, Mawruss?"
"I seen him," Morris replied, "but not at the hotel, Abe. I seen him up
at that Heatherbloom Inn, Abe--with a lady."
"With a lady?" Abe cried. "Are you sure it was a lady, Mawruss? Maybe
she was a relation."
"Relations you don't take it to expensive places like the Heatherbloom
Inn, Abe," Morris replied. "And, anyhow, this wasn't no relation, Abe;
this was a lady. Why should a man blush for a relation, ain't it?"
"Did he blush?" Abe asked; but the question remained unanswered, for as
Morris was about to reply the store door opened and Marcus Bramson
entered.
"Ah, Mr. Bramson," Abe cried, "ain't it a beautiful weather?"
He seized the newcomer by the hand and shook it up and down. Mr. Bramson
received the greeting solemnly.
"Abe," he said, "I am a man of my word, ain't it? And so I come here to
buy goods; but, all the same, I tell you the truth: I was pretty near
going to Lapidus & Elenbogen's."
"Lapidus & Elenbogen's!" Abe cried. "Why so?"
At this juncture Morris appeared at the show-room door and beamed at
Mr. Bramson, who looked straight over his head in cold indifference;
whereupon Morris found some business to attend to in the rear of
the store.
"That's what I said," Mr. Bramson replied, "Lapidus & Elenbogen's; and
you would of deserved it."
"Mr. Bramson," Abe protested, "did I ever done you something that you
should talk that way?"
"_Me_ you never done nothing to, Abe," said Mr. Bramson, "but to treat a
lady what _is_ a lady, Abe, like a dawg, Abe, I must say it I'm
surprised.
"_I_ never treated no lady like a dawg, Mr. Bramson," Abe replied. "You
must be mistaken."
"Well, maybe it wasn't you, Abe," Mr. Bramson went on; "but if it wasn't
you it was your partner there, that Mawruss Perlmutter. Yesterday I seen
him up to the Heatherbloom Inn, Abe, and I assure you, Abe, I was never
before in my life in such a high-price place--coffee and cake, Abe,
believe me, one dollar and a quarter."
He paused to let the information sink in. "But what could I do?" he
asked. "I was walking through the side entrance of the Prince William
Hotel yesterday, Abe, just on my way down to see you, when I seen it a
lady sitting on a bench, looking like she would like to cry only for
shame for the people. Well, Abe, I looked again, Abe, and would you
believe it, Abe, it was Miss Atkinson, what used to work for me as
saleswoman and got a job by The Golden Rule Store, Elmira, as assistant
buyer, and is now buyer by Moe Gerschel, The Emporium, Duluth."
Abe nodded; he knew what was coming.
"So, naturally, I asks her what it is the matter with her, and she says
Potash & Perlmutter had an appointment to take her out in an oitermobile
at two o'clock, and here it was three o'clock already and they ain't
showed up yet. Potash & Perlmutter is friends of mine, Miss Atkinson, I
says, and I'm sure something must have happened, or otherwise they would
not of failed to be here. So I says for her to ring you up, Abe, and
find out. But she says she would see you first in--she wouldn't ring you
up for all the oitermobiles in New York. So I says, well, I says, if you
don't want to ring 'em up _I'll_ ring 'em up; and she says I should mind
my own business. So then I says, if _you_ wouldn't ring 'em up and _I_
wouldn't ring 'em up I'll do _this_ for you, Miss Atkinson: You and me
will go for an oitermobile ride, I says, and we'll have just so good a
time as if Potash & Perlmutter was paying for it. And so we did, Abe. I
took Miss Atkinson up to the Heatherbloom Inn, and it costed me thirty
dollars, Abe, including a cigar, which I wouldn't charge you nothing
for."
"Charge _me_ nothing!" Abe cried. "Of course you wouldn't charge me
nothing. You wouldn't charge me nothing, Mr. Bramson, because I wouldn't
_pay_ you nothing. I didn't ask you to take Miss Atkinson out in an
oitermobile."
"I know you didn't, Abe," Mr. Bramson replied firmly, "but either you
will pay for it or I will go over to Lapidus & Elenbogen's and _they_
will pay for it. They'll be only too glad to pay for it, Abe, because I
bet yer Miss Atkinson she give 'em a pretty big order already, Abe."
Abe frowned and then shrugged. "All right," he said; "if I must I must.
So come on now, Mr. Bramson, and look over the line."
In the meantime Morris had repaired to the bookkeeper's desk and was
looking over the daybook with an unseeing eye. His mind was occupied
with bitter reflections when Ralph Tuchman interrupted him.
"Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "I'm going to leave."
"Going to leave?" Morris cried. "What for?"
"Well, in the first place, I don't like it to be called out of my
name," he continued. "Mr. Potash calls me Ike, and my name is Ralph.
If a man's name is Ralph, Mr. Perlmutter, he naturally don't like it
to be called Ike."
"I know it," Morris agreed, "but some people ain't got a good memory for
names, Ralph. Even myself I forget it names, too, oncet in a while,
occasionally."
"But that ain't all, Mr. Perlmutter," Ralph went on. "Yesterday, while
you was out, Mr. Potash accuses me something terrible."
"Accuse you?" Morris said. "What does he accuse you for?"
"He accuse me that I ring up my Uncle Max Tuchman and tell him about a
Miss Atkinson at the Prince William Hotel," Ralph continued. "I didn't
do it, Mr. Perlmutter; believe me. Uncle Max rung me up, and I was going
to tell you and Mr. Potash what he rung me up for if you didn't looked
at me like I was a pickpocket when I was coming away from the 'phone
yesterday."
"I didn't look at you like a pickpocket, Ralph," Morris said. "What did
your Uncle Max ring you up for?"
"Why, he wanted me to tell you that so long as you was so kind and gives
me this here vacation job I should do you a good turn, too. He says that
Miss Atkinson tells him yesterday she was going out oitermobile riding
with you, and so he says I should tell you not to go to any expense by
Miss Atkinson, on account that she already bought her fall line from
Uncle Max when he was in Duluth three weeks ago already; and that she is
now in New York strictly on her vacation only, and _not_ to buy goods."
Morris nodded slowly.
"Well, Ralph," he said, "you're a good, smart boy, and I want you to
stay until Miss Cohen comes back and maybe we'll raise you a couple of
dollars a week till then."
He bit the end off a Heatherbloom Inn cigar. "When a man gets played it
good for a sucker like we was," he mused, "a couple of dollars more or
less won't harm him none."
"That's what my Uncle Max says when he seen you up at the Heatherbloom
Inn yesterday," Ralph commented.
"_He_ seen me up at the Heatherbloom Inn!" Morris cried. "How should he
seen me up at the Heatherbloom Inn? I thought he was made it arrested."
"Sure he was made it arrested," Ralph said. "But he fixed it up all
right at the station-house, and the sergeant lets him out. So he goes up
to the Heatherbloom Inn because when he went right back to the hotel to
see after that Miss Taylor the carriage agent tells him a feller chases
him up in an oitermobile to the Heatherbloom Inn. But when Uncle Max
gets up there you look like you was having such a good time already he
hates to interrupt you, so he goes back to the store again."
Morris puffed violently at his cigar.
"That's a fine piece of work," he said, "that Max Tuchman is."
Ralph nodded.
"Sure he is," he replied. "Uncle Max is an up-to-date feller."