“Sure I know him, Mawruss,” Abe replied.  “You know him, too, Mawruss.  That’s a feller by the name Osher Katzenelenbogen, what used to work for us as buttonhole-maker when we was new beginners already.  Two years ago, I met that feller in the Yates House and I says to him:  ‘Hallo,’ I says, ‘ain’t you Osher Katzenelenbogen?’ And he says:  ‘Excuse me,’ he says, ‘you got the advantage from me,’ he says.  ‘My name is Arthur Katzen,’ he says; and I assure you, Mawruss, the business that feller was doing, Mawruss, was the sole topic what everybody was talking about.”

Morris waved his hand deprecatingly.

“I seen lots of them topics in my time already, Abe,” he commented.  “Topics what went up with red fire already and come down like sticks.  That’s the way it goes in this business, Abe.  A feller gets a little streak of luck, and everybody goes to work and pats him on the back and tells him he’s a great salesman.”

“But mind you, Mawruss, Arthur Katzen was a good salesman then and is a good salesman to-day yet.  The only trouble with him is that he’s a gambler, Mawruss.  That feller would sooner play auction pinochle than eat, and that’s the reason why he could never hold it a job.”

“Why shouldn’t he hold a job, Abe?” Morris asked.  “If I would have a crackerjack drummer, for my part he could play the whole book of Hoyle, from klabbias to stuss, and it wouldn’t affect me none so long as he sold the goods.”

“Maybe you’re right, Mawruss,” Abe admitted.  “But when a feller fools away his time at auction pinochle his business is bound to suffer.”

“Well, then, here’s a feller answers by the name Mozart Rabiner,” Morris continued.  “Did y’ever hear of him, Abe?”

“If you mean Moe Rabiner, Mawruss,” Abe replied.  “I never knew his name was Mozart before, Mawruss, but there was a feller by the name Moe Rabiner what used to work for Sammet Brothers, Mawruss, and that feller could make the pianner fairly talk, Mawruss.  If he could only get a lady buyer up against a pianner, Mawruss, he could sell her every time.”

Morris tore up Mozart’s application.

“So long as a feller fools away his time, Abe,” he said, “it don’t make no difference either he plays auction pinochle or either he plays the pianner.  Ain’t it?”

He opened another envelope and scanned the enclosed missive.

“This sounds good to me, Abe,” he said, and handed the letter to his partner.  It read as follows: 

                              4042 PROSPECT AVE., September 18/08. 
     MESSRS POTASH & PERLMUTTER,

Gents:—­Seeing your ad in to days Record and in reply would beg
to state am a first class, womans outer garment salesman selling
only to the high class trade.  Was for three years with one of the
largest concerns in the trade traveling to the coast and making
Tooson, Denver, Shyenne and Butte, selling the