“You got it right,” Abe said, “and what’s more I ain’t never going to neither.”

“What you trying to give me?” Kleebaum asked.  “You mean to say if I would ask you you should come riding with me now, you would turn me down?”

“I bet yer I would,” Abe declared.  “An up-to-date feller like you, Kleebaum, is different already from an old-timer like me.  I got a wife, Kleebaum, and also I don’t carry a whole lot of insurance neither, y’understand.”

“Come off, Potash!” Kleebaum cried.  “I rode myself in oitermobiles already millions of times and I ain’t never been hurted yet.”

“Some people’s got all the luck, Kleebaum,” Abe replied.  “With me I bet yer if I would ride in an oitermobile once, y’understand, the least that would happen to me is I should break my neck.”

“How could you break your neck in a brand new car like that Pfingst car downstairs?” Kleebaum insisted.

“Never mind,” Abe answered, “if things is going to turn out that way, Mr. Kleebaum, you could break your neck in a baby carriage yet.”

“Well, don’t get mad about it, Potash,” Kleebaum said.

“Me, I don’t get mad so easy,” Abe declared.  “Wouldn’t you come downstairs to Hammersmith’s and take a cup coffee or something?”

Together they descended to the sidewalk where they were saluted by a tremendous chugging from the Pfingst roadster.

“Say, my friend,” the demonstrating chauffeur cried as he caught sight of Kleebaum, “what d’ye think I’m running anyway?  A taxicab?”

“You shouldn’t get fresh, young feller,” Kleebaum retorted, “unless you would want to lose your job.”

“Aw, quit your stalling,” the chauffeur protested.  “Is this the guy you was telling me about?”

Kleebaum frowned and contorted one side of his face with electrical rapidity.

“Say, my friend,” the chauffeur replied entirely unmoved, “them gestures don’t go down with me.  Is this the guy you was telling the boss you would jolly into buying a car, because——­”

Kleebaum turned to Abe and elaborately assumed an expression of amiable deprecation.

“That’s a salesman for you,” he exclaimed.

Abe surveyed Kleebaum with a puzzled stare.

“Say, lookyhere, Kleebaum,” he said, “if you thought you would get me to buy an oitermobile by giving me this here order, Kleebaum, I’m satisfied you should cancel it.  Because again I got to tell it you, Kleebaum, I ain’t in the market for oitermobiles just yet awhile.”

Kleebaum clapped Abe on the shoulder.

“The feller don’t know what he’s talking about, Potash,” he declared. 
“He’s thinking of somebody quite different as you.  That order stands,
Potash, and now if you will excuse me joining you in that cup coffee,
Potash, I got to say good-by.”

He wrung Abe’s hand in farewell and jumped into the seat beside the chauffeur while Abe stood on the sidewalk and watched them disappear down the street.