“Sure I know,” Abe rejoined; “but he ain’t got nothing on one of them piker stores when it comes right down to the stock he carries on the inside, Mawruss.  Yes, Mawruss, when I sell goods to a feller like Feinholz, Mawruss, I’m afraid for my life until I get my money.”

“Well, you needn’t be afraid for Feinholz, Abe,” said Morris, “because, in the first place, the feller has got a fine rating; and then again, he couldn’t fire them goods back on us because, for the price, there ain’t a better-made line in the country.”

“I hope you’re right, Mawruss,” Abe replied as he rang the bell for the freight elevator.  “It would be a fine comeback if he should return them goods on us after we give his nephew the insurance we did.”

Again he pressed the elevator bell.

“What’s the matter with that elevator, Mawruss?” he said.  “It takes a year to get a package on to the sidewalk.”

“That’s on account of somebody moves in downstairs, Abe,” Morris answered.  “Kaskel Schwartz, what used to be foreman for Pinkel Brothers, him and Moe Feigel goes as partners together in skirts.”

“Is that so?” Abe said, jamming his thumb on the elevator bell.  “I hope he don’t got the cigarettel habit.”

At length the elevator arrived, and Jake, the shipping clerk, carried out the brown paper parcels comprising Feinholz’s shipment.

“If that’s the last I seen of them garments,” Abe said as he returned to the show-room, “I’m a lucky man.”

“Always you’re beefing about something happening what ain’t going to happen, Abe,” Morris retorted.  “Just a few minutes since you hoped Kaskel Schwartz ain’t going to be careless about cigarettels, and now you’re imagining things about Feinholz sending back the goods.”

“Never mind, Mawruss,” Abe replied; “in two days’ time I shall breathe easier yet.”

For the rest of the day it rained in a steady, tropical downpour, and when Abe came downtown the next morning the weather had moderated only slightly.

“Yes, Mawruss,” he said as he entered, “that’s a fine weather for a cloak business, Mawruss; and I bet yer, Mawruss, if we was making cravenettes and umbrellas yet we would be having a long dry spell.”

He heaved a great sigh and approached the bookkeeper’s desk, where Morris had laid the morning mail.

“Did you hear from those suckers out in Kansas City what made the kick about them London Smokes, Mawruss?” he asked.

“Sure I did,” Morris replied; “they says they decided to keep the goods.”

“I guess it left off raining in Kansas City,” Abe commented.  “Them suckers only made that kick because they thought they couldn’t sell nothing in wet weather.  Any other kicks, Mawruss?”

“Yes,” Morris replied shortly.

Abe looked up.

“Louis Feinholz!” he gasped.

Morris nodded and handed Abe a letter.  It read as follows: 

THE LONGCHAMPS
L. FEINHOLZ, PROPRIETOR
“EVERYTHING FOR MADAME....” 
NEW YORK, April 1st, 1908