“He’s worth it, Abe, believe me,” said Leon, as they shook hands on the bargain.  “And now let’s fix it up right away.”

Half an hour later, Abe, Louis Grossman and Leon Sammet entered the spacious law offices of Henry D. Feldman, who bears the same advisory relation to the cloak and suit trade as Judge Gary did to the steel and iron business.

The drawing of the necessary papers occupied the better part of the day and it was not until three o’clock in the afternoon that the transaction was complete.  By its terms Sammet Brothers in consideration of $1,033.33 paid by Potash & Perlmutter, released Louis Grossman from his contract, and Louis entered into a new agreement with Potash & Perlmutter at an advance of a thousand a year over the compensation paid him by Sammet Brothers.  In addition he was to receive from Potash & Perlmutter five per cent. of the profits of their business, payable weekly, the arrangement to be in force for one year, during which time neither employer nor employee could be rid one of the other save by mutual consent.

“It comes high, Mawruss,” Abe said to his partner, after he had returned to the store, “but I guess Louis’s worth it.”

“I hope so,” Morris replied.  “Now we can make up some of them Arverne Sacques.”

“No, Mawruss,” Abe replied, “I’m sorry to say we can’t, because, by the agreement what Henry D. Feldman drew up, Sammet Brothers has the sole right to make up and sell the Arverne Sacques; but I seen to it, Mawruss, that we got the right to make up and sell every other garment what Louis Grossman originated for them this season.”

He smiled triumphantly at his partner.

“And,” he concluded, “he’s coming to work Monday morning.”

At the end of three disillusionizing weeks Abe Potash and Morris Perlmutter sat in the show-room of their place of business.  Abe’s hat was tilted over his eyes and he whistled a tuneless air.  Morris was biting his nails.

“Well, Mawruss,” Abe said at length, “when we’re stuck we’re stuck; ain’t it?  What’s the use of sitting here like a couple of mummies; ain’t it?”

Morris ceased biting his nails.

“Yes, Abe,” he said, “ten hundred and thirty-three, thirty-three for a designer what couldn’t design paper-bags for a delicatessen store.  I believe he must have took lessons in designing from a correspondence school.”

“Believe me, Mawruss, he learned it by telephone,” Abe replied.  “But cussing him out won’t do no good, Mawruss.  The thing to do now is to get busy and turn out some garments what we can sell.  Them masquerade costumes what he gets up you couldn’t sell to a five-and-ten-cent store.”

“All right,” Morris said.  “Let’s have another designer and leave Louis to do the cutting.”

“Another designer!” Abe exclaimed.  “No, Mawruss, you’re a good enough designer for me.  I always said it, Mawruss, you’re a first-class A Number One designer.”