She held out her hand and Morris took it sheepishly.

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” she said.

“I can’t blame you, lady,” Morris replied as they went toward the front door.  “It ain’t your fault, lady.”

He held the door open for her.  “And as for that Max Tuchman,” he said,
“I hope they send him up for life.”

Abe stood in the show-room doorway as Morris returned from the front of the store and fixed his partner with a terrible glare.  “Yes, Mawruss,” he said, “you’re a fine piece of work, I must say.”

Morris shrugged his shoulders and sat down.  “That’s what comes of not minding your own business,” he retorted.  “I’m the inside, Abe, and you’re the outside, and it’s your business to look after the out-of-town trade.  I told you I don’t know nothing about this here lady-buyer business.  You ordered the oitermobile.  I ain’t got nothing to do with it, and, anyhow, I don’t want to hear no more about it.”

A pulse was beating in Abe’s cheeks as he paced up and down before replying.

“You don’t want to hear no more about it, Mawruss, I know,” he said; “but I want to hear about it.  I got a right to hear about it, Mawruss.  I got a right to hear it how a man could make such a fool out of himself.  Tell me, Mawruss, what name did you ask it for when you went to the clerk at the Prince William Hotel?”

Morris jumped to his feet.  “Lillian Russell!” he roared, and banged the show-room door behind him.

For the remainder of the day Morris and Abe avoided each other, and it was not until the next morning that Morris ventured to address his partner.

“Did you get it any word from Marcus Bramson?” he asked.

“I ain’t seen nor heard nothing,” Abe replied.  “I can’t understand it, Mawruss; the man promised me, mind you, he would be here sure.  Maybe you seen him up to the hotel, Mawruss?”

“I seen him,” Morris replied, “but not at the hotel, Abe.  I seen him up at that Heatherbloom Inn, Abe—­with a lady.”

“With a lady?” Abe cried.  “Are you sure it was a lady, Mawruss?  Maybe she was a relation.”

“Relations you don’t take it to expensive places like the Heatherbloom Inn, Abe,” Morris replied.  “And, anyhow, this wasn’t no relation, Abe; this was a lady.  Why should a man blush for a relation, ain’t it?”

“Did he blush?” Abe asked; but the question remained unanswered, for as Morris was about to reply the store door opened and Marcus Bramson entered.

“Ah, Mr. Bramson,” Abe cried, “ain’t it a beautiful weather?”

He seized the newcomer by the hand and shook it up and down.  Mr. Bramson received the greeting solemnly.

“Abe,” he said, “I am a man of my word, ain’t it?  And so I come here to buy goods; but, all the same, I tell you the truth:  I was pretty near going to Lapidus & Elenbogen’s.”

“Lapidus & Elenbogen’s!” Abe cried.  “Why so?”