Part 9 (1/2)

”Well, Abe,” he said at length, ”I'll be going on to the Prince Clarence, and I'll see you in the store to-morrow morning. Good-by, Mrs.

Potash.”

”Good-by,” Mrs. Potash replied, with an emphasis that implied ”good riddance,” and then, as Moe disappeared toward the street, she sniffed again. ”It don't take long for some loafers to forget their wives!” she said.

”Well, Abe,” Morris said, after the first greetings had pa.s.sed between them that afternoon, ”I'm glad to see you back in the store.”

”You ain't half so glad to see me back, Mawruss, as I am that I should be back,” Abe replied. ”Not that the trip ain't paid us, Mawruss, because I got a trunkful of samples on the way up here which I a.s.sure you is a work of art.”

”Sure, I know!” Morris commented with just a tinge of bitterness in his tones; ”Paris is the place for styles. Us poor suckers over here don't know a thing about designing.”

”Well, Mawruss, I'll tell you,” Abe went on: ”you are a first-cla.s.s, A number one designer, I got to admit, and there ain't n.o.body that I consider is better as you in the whole garment trade; but”--here he paused to unfasten his suitcase--”but, Mawruss,” he continued, ”I got here just one sample style which I brought it with me, Mawruss, and I think, Mawruss, you would got to agree with me, such models we don't turn out on this side.”

Here he opened the suitcase, and carefully taking out the dress of the Cafe de la Paix he spread it on a sample table.

”What d'ye think of that, Mawruss?” he asked.

Morris made no answer. He was gazing at the garment with bulging eyes, and beads of perspiration ran down his forehead.

”Abe!” he gasped at length, ”where did you get that garment from?”

Before Abe could answer, the elevator door opened and a young lady stepped out. It was now Abe's turn to gasp, for the visitor was no other than the tanned and ruddy young person from the Cafe de la Paix.

”Good afternoon, Mr. Perlmutter,” she said. ”I've just got back.”

”Oh, good afternoon, Miss Smith!” Morris cried.

”I hope I'm not interrupting you,” she continued.

”Not at all,” Morris said; ”not at all.”

Then a wave of recollection came over him, and he muttered a half-smothered exclamation.

”Abe, Miss Smith,” he almost shouted, and then he sat down. ”Say, lookyhere, Abe, what is all this, anyway? Miss Smith comes in here and----”

”Well, upon my word!” Miss Smith interrupted; ”if it isn't the gentleman from the Cafe de la Paix--and, of all things, there is the very dress!”

Abe shrugged his shoulders.

”That's right, Miss Whatever-your-name is,” Abe admitted; ”that's the dress, and since I paid you sixty dollars for it I don't think you got any kick coming.”

”Sixty dollars!” Morris cried. ”Why, that dress as a sample garment only cost us twenty-two-fifty to make up.”

”Cost us?” Abe repeated. ”As a sample garment? What are you talking about?”

”I am talking about this, Abe,” Morris replied: ”that dress is the self-same garment which I designed it, and which you says was rotten and freaky, and which I give it to Miss Smith here for a present, and which you paid Miss Smith sixty dollars for.”

”And here is the sixty dollars now,” Miss Smith broke in. ”I hurried here as fast as I could to give it to you, Mr. Perlmutter.”