“Close the window, Mawruss,” said Abe.  “There’s so much noise coming from outside I can’t hear myself think.”

“The window is closed, Abe,” Morris replied.  “It’s your imagination.”

“Well, then, which one is which, Mawruss?” Abe asked.

“The roses is Anna,” Morris said.  “Anna, you want to work by Mr. Potash’s lady?”

“Sure she does,” Abe broke in.  “Only I want to ask you a few questions before I hire you.  Who did you work by before, Anna?”

Anna hung her head and simpered.

“Mister M. Garfunkel,” she murmured.

“Is that so?” Morris exclaimed.  “Why, he’s a good customer of ours.”

“Don’t butt in, Mawruss,” Abe said.  “And what did you leave him for, Anna?”

“Me don’t leave them,” Anna replied.  “Mrs. Garfunkel is fine lady.  Mister Garfunkel, too.  They leave me.  They goin’ away next month, out to the country.”

“Moving out to the country, hey?” said Abe.  He was outwardly calm, but his eyes glittered.  “What country?”

Anna turned to her cousin Lina and spoke a few words of Lithuanian.

“She say she don’t remember,” Lina explained, “but she say is something sounds like ’canned goods’.”

“Canned goods?” Morris murmured.

Abe bit the ends of his mustache for a moment, and then he leaped to his feet.

“Canada!” he yelled, and Lina nodded vigorously.

He darted out of the show-room and ran to the telephone.  In ten minutes he returned, his face bathed in perspiration.

“Anna,” he croaked, “you come to work by me.  Yes?  How much you get by that—­that M. Garfunkel?”

“Twenty dollars a month,” Anna replied.

“All right, we’ll pay you twenty-two,” he said.  “You’re cheap at the price.  So I expect you this evening.”

He turned to his partner after the girls had gone.

“Mawruss,” he said, “put them goods for M. Garfunkel back in stock.  I rung up Klinger & Klein and they sold him four thousand.  I also rung up the Perfection Cloak and Suit Company—­also four thousand; Margolius & Fried—­two thousand; Levy, Martin & Co.—­three thousand, and so on.  The way I figure it, he must of bought a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of goods, all in the last few days, and all at ninety days net.  He couldn’t get a quarter of the goods in that First Avenue building of his, Mawruss, so where is the rest?  Auction houses, Mawruss, north, south, east and west, and I bet yer he got the advance checks for each consignment deposited in Montreal right now.  I bet yer he didn’t even unpack the cases before he reshipped.  Tell Miss Cohen to come in and bring her book.”

When Miss Cohen took her seat Abe rose and cleared his throat for an epistle worthy of the occasion.

“The Paris.  M. Garfunkel, Proprietor,” he said.  “Gents:  Owing to circumstances which has arose——­No.  Wait a bit.”