“The fixtures!” Morris cried.  “For why should we make up our minds about the fixtures, Abe?”

“We need to have fixtures, Mawruss, ain’t it?”

“What’s the matter with the fixtures what we got it here, Abe?” Morris asked.

“Them ain’t fixtures what we got it here, Mawruss,” Abe replied.  “Junk is what we got it here, Mawruss, not fixtures.  If we was to move them bum-looking racks and tables up to Nineteenth Street, Mawruss, it would be like an insult to our customers.”

“Would it?” Morris replied.  “Well, we ain’t asking ’em to buy the fixtures, Abe; we only sell ’em the garments.  Anyhow, if our customers was so touchy, Abe, they would of been insulted long since ago.  For we got them fixtures six years already, and before we had ’em yet, Abe, Pincus Vesell bought ’em, way before the Spanish War, from Kupferman & Daiches, and then Kupferman & Daiches——­”

“S’enough, Mawruss,” Abe protested.  “I ain’t asked you you should tell me the family history of them fixtures, Mawruss.  I know it as well as you do, Mawruss, them fixtures is old-established back numbers, and I wouldn’t have ’em in the store even if we was going to stay here yet.”

“You wouldn’t have ’em in the store,” Morris broke in; “but how about me?  Ain’t I nobody here, Abe?  I think I got something to say, too, Abe.  So I made up my mind we’re going to keep them fixtures and move ’em up to the new store.  We done it always a good business with them fixtures, Abe.”

“Yes, Mawruss, and we also lose it a good customer by ’em, too,” Abe rejoined.  “You know as well as I do that after one-eye Feigenbaum, of the H. F. Cloak Company, run into that big rack over by the door and busted his nose we couldn’t sell him no more goods.”

“Was it the rack’s fault that Henry Feigenbaum only got one eye, Abe?” Morris cried.  “Anyhow, Abe, when a feller got a nose like Henry Feigenbaum, Abe, he’s liable to knock it against most any thing, Abe; so you couldn’t blame it on the fixtures.”

“I don’t know who was to blame, Mawruss,” Abe said, “but I do know that he buys it always a big bill of goods from H. Rifkin, what’s got that loft on the next floor above where we took it on Nineteenth Street, and Rifkin does a big business by him.  I bet yer Feigenbaum’s account is easy worth two thousand a year net to Rifkin, Mawruss.”

“Maybe it is and maybe it ain’t, Abe,” Morris rejoined, “but that ain’t here nor there.  Instead you should be estimating Rifkin’s profits, Abe, you should better be going up to Nineteenth Street and see if them people gets through painting and cleaning up.  I got it my hands full down here.”

Abe reached for his hat.

“I bet yer you got your hands full, Mawruss,” he grumbled.  “The way it looks, now, Mawruss, you got our sample lines so mixed up it’ll be out of date before you get it sorted out again.”

“All right,” Morris retorted, “we’ll get out a new one.  We don’t care nothing about the expenses, Abe.  If the old fixtures ain’t good enough our sample line ain’t good enough, neither.  Ain’t it?  What do we care about money, Abe?”