“Well, Mawruss, is that all you got against him that he owns an oitermobile?  Maybe he plays golluf, too, Mawruss.”

“Golluf I don’t know nothing about, Abe,” Morris replied, “but auction pinochle he does play it, Abe.  Sol Klinger says that out in Minneapolis Kleebaum hangs out with a bunch of loafers what considers a dollar a hundred chicken feed already.”

Abe rose to his feet.

“Let me tell you something, Mawruss,” he said.  “I got over them old fashioned idees that a feller shouldn’t spend the money he makes in the way what he wants to.  If Kleebaum wants to buy oitermobiles, that’s his business, not mine, Mawruss, and for my part, Mawruss, if that feller was to come in here and buy from us a thousand dollars goods, Mawruss, I am in favor we should sell him.”

“You could do what you please, Abe,” Morris declared as he put on his hat.  “Only one thing I beg of you, Abe, don’t never put it up to me, Abe, that I was in favor of the feller from the start.”

“Sure not, Mawruss,” Abe replied, “because you wouldn’t never let me forget it.  Where are you going now, Mawruss?”

“I told you yesterday where I was going, Abe,” Morris said impatiently.  “Me and Minnie is going out to Johnsonhurst to see her cousin Moe Fixman.”

“Moe Fixman,” Abe repeated.  “Ain’t that the same Fixman what was partners together with Max Gudekunst?”

Morris nodded.

“Well, you want to keep your hand on your pocketbook, Mawruss,” Abe went on, “because I hear it on good authority that feller ain’t above selling the milk from his baby’s bottle.”

Morris paused with his hand on the door knob.

“That’s the first I hear about it, Abe,” he said.  “Certainly, when a feller gets together a little money, y’understand, always there is somebody what knocks him, Abe.  Who told you all this about Fixman, Abe?”

“A feller by the name Sol Klinger, Mawruss,” Abe replied, “and if you don’t believe me you could——­”

But Morris cut off further comment by banging the door behind him and Abe turned to his task of preparing the sample line for his prospective customer’s inspection.  A half an hour later J. Edward Kleebaum entered the show-room and extended his hand to Abe.

“Hallo, Potash,” he said.  “You got to excuse me I’m a little late on account I had to look at a machine up on Fiftieth Street.”

“That’s a sample I suppose, ain’t it?” Abe said.

“No,” Kleebaum replied, “it’s one of their stock machines, a Pfingst, nineteen-nine model.”

“Pfingst!” Abe exclaimed, “that’s a new one on me.  Certainly, I believe a feller should buy the machines what suits his purpose, but with Mawruss and me, when we was running our own shop we bought nothing but standard makes like Keeler and Silcox and them other machines.”

At this juncture Kleebaum broke into a hearty laugh.

“This machine is all right for what I would want it,” he said.  “In fact, I got it right down in front of the door now.  It’s a nineteen-nine Pfingst, six cylinder roadster up to date and runs like a chronometer already.”