Abe Potash entered the firm's private office one morning in mid-September and deliberately removed his hat and coat. As he did so he emitted groans calculated to melt the heart of the most hardened medical pract.i.tioner, but Morris Perlmutter remained entirely unmoved.

"Well, Abe," he said, "you've been making a hog of yourself again. Ain't it? Sol Klinger says he seen you over to the Harlem Winter Garden, and I suppose you bought it such a fine supper you couldn't sleep a wink all night. What?"

Abe started to draw himself up to his full five feet three, but lumbago brooks no hauteur, and he subsided into the nearest chair with a low, expressive "Oo-ee!"

"That's a heart you got it, Mawruss," he declared bitterly, "like a stone. I drunk it nothing but lithia water and some dry toast, which them suckers got the nerve to charge me fifty cents for."

"Well, why don't you seen it a doctor, Abe?" Morris said. "You could monkey with yourself a whole lifetime, Abe, and it would never do you no good; whilst if you seen it a doctor, Abe, he gives you a little pinch of powder, y'understand, and in five minutes you are a well man."

Abe sighed heavily.

"It don't go so quick, Mawruss," he replied. "I seen a doctor this morning and he says I am full from rheumatism. I da.s.sen't do nothing, Mawruss, I da.s.sen't touch coffee or schnapps. I da.s.sen't eat no meat but lamb chops and chicken."

"I tasted worser things already as lamb chops and chicken, Abe," Morris retorted.

"And the worstest thing of all, Mawruss," Abe concluded, "the doctor says he wouldn't be responsible for my life already if I go out on the road."

"What?" Morris exclaimed. In less than two weeks Abe was due to leave on his Western trip, and for the past few days Morris had been in the throes of preparing the sample line.

"This is a fine time for you to get sick, Abe," he cried.

"Could I help it, Mawruss?" Abe protested. "You talk like I got the rheumatism to spite you, Mawruss. Believe me, Mawruss, I ain't so stuck on staying in the store here with you, Mawruss. I could prefer it a million times to be out on the road."

He rose to his feet with another hollow groan.

"But, anyway, Mawruss, it won't help matters none if we sit around here all the morning. We got to get it somebody to sell our line, because even if, to hear you talk, the goods do sell themselves when _I_ go out with them, Mawruss, we couldn't take no chances on some kid salesman. We got to get it a first-cla.s.s A Number One feller what wouldn't fool away his time."

"Well, why don't you put it an ad in the Daily Cloak and Suit Record, Abe?" Morris asked.

"I put it in last night already," Abe replied, "and I bet yer we get it a million answers by the first mail this afternoon."

For the remainder of the morning Morris busied himself with the sample line, while Abe moved slowly about the show-room, well within the hearing of his partner, and moaned piteously at frequent intervals.

Every half-hour he cleared his throat with a rasping noise and, when he had secured Morris' attention, ostentatiously swallowed a large gelatine capsule and rolled his eyes upward in what he conceived to be an expression of acute agony. At length Morris could stand it no longer.

"What are we running here, anyway, Abe?" he asked. "A cloak and suit business or a hospital? If you are such a sick man, Abe, why don't you go home?"

"Must I got to get your permission to be sick, Mawruss?" Abe asked.

"Couldn't I take it maybe a bit of medicine oncet in a while if I want to, Mawruss?"

He snorted indignantly, but further discussion was prevented by the entrance of the letter-carrier, and immediately Abe and Morris forgot their differences in an examination of the numerous letters that were the fruit of the advertis.e.m.e.nt.

"Don't let's waste no time over fellers we don't know nothing about, Abe," Morris suggested as he tossed one envelope into the waste-paper basket. "Here's a feller called Rutherford B. H. Horowitz, what says he used to be a suit-buyer in Indianapolis. Ever hear of him, Abe?"

"We don't want no fellers what used to be buyers, Mawruss," Abe retorted. "What we want is fellers what is cloak and suit salesmen.

Ain't it?"

"Well, here's a feller by the name Arthur Katzen, Abe," Morris went on.

"Did y'ever hear of him, Abe?"

"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 b.u.t.tonhole-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 a.s.sure 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 cla.s.s, womans outer garment salesman selling only to the high cla.s.s trade. Was for three years with one of the largest concerns in the trade traveling to the coast and making Tooson, Denver, Shyenne and b.u.t.te, selling the best houses in Frisco, Portland, Seattle, Los Angles, Fresno &c &c &c. _Am all for business and can give A 1 references._ At present am unnattached but expect quick action as am neggotiating with one of the largest speciality houses in the trade. _Ask no favors of n.o.body but results will show._ Yours truly MARKS PASINSKY.

"By jimminy!" Abe cried after he had finished reading the letter.

"That's the feller we want to hire it, Mawruss. Let's write him to call."

It would hardly be violating Marks Pasinsky's confidence to disclose that he held himself to be a forceful man. He never spoke save in italics, and when he shook hands with anyone the recipient of the honor felt it for the rest of the day. Abe watched Morris undergo the ordeal and plunged his hands in his trousers' pockets.

"And this is Mr. Potash," Pasinsky cried, releasing his grip on Morris and extending his hand toward Abe.

"How d'ye do?" Abe said without removing his hands. "I think I seen you oncet before already in Mandleberger Brothers & Co., in Chicago."

"I presume you did," Marks Pasinsky replied. "Ed Mandleberger and me married cousins. That is to say, my wife's mother's sister is a sister-in-law to a brother of Ed Mandleberger's wife's mother."

"Huh, huh," Abe murmured. "Do you know Simon Kuhner, buyer for their cloak department?"

Marks Pasinsky sat down and fixed Abe with an incredulous smile.

"A question!" he exclaimed. "Do I know him? Every afternoon, when I am in Chicago, Simon and me drinks coffee together."