et some one in there what can manage a double entry, and can run a
card-index for our credits."

Abe puffed vigorously at his cigar.

"I suppose, Mawruss, if we got a card-index and we sell a crook a bill
of goods," he commented, "and the crook busts up on us, Mawruss, that
card-index is going to stop him from sticking us--what? Well, Mawruss,
if you want to put in a young feller and fire Miss Cohen, go ahead--I'm
satisfied."

As if to clinch the matter before his partner could retract this
somewhat grudging consent, Morris Perlmutter stalked out of the
sample-room and made resolutely for the glass-enclosed office, where
Miss Cohen was busy writing in a ledger. She looked up as he entered,
and surveyed him calmly with her large black eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Perlmutter!" she said when he came within ear-shot, "Uncle Max
was round to the house last night, and he wants you should duplicate
them forty-twenty-twos in his last order and ship at once."

Morris stopped short. This was something he had not foreseen, and all
his well-formulated plans for the firing of Miss Cohen were shattered at
once.

"Oh!" he said lamely. "Thank you, Miss Cohen; I'll make a memorandum of
it." He went over to the commercial agency book and scanned three or
four pages with an unseeing eye. Then he repaired to the sample room,
where Abe sat finishing his cigar.

"Well, Mawruss," said Abe, his face wreathed in a malicious grin, "you
made a quick job of it."

Morris scowled.

"I ain't spoken to her yet," he grunted. "I got a little gumption,
Abe--a little consideration and common sense. I don't throw out my dirty
water until I get clean."

Abe puffed slowly before replying.

"I seen some people, Mawruss," he said, "what sometimes throws out
perfectly clean water, and gets some dirty water in exchange, Mawruss."
He threw away the stump of his cigar.

"Sometimes, Mawruss," he concluded solemnly, "they gets a good, big
souse, Mawruss, where they least expect it."

* * * * *

Ike Feinsilver, city salesman for the Hamsuckett Mills--Goldner &
Plotkin, proprietors--was obviously his own ideal of a well-dressed man.
His shirts and waistcoats represented a taste as original as it was not
subdued; but it was in the selection of his neckties that he really
excelled. Abe and Morris fairly blinked as they surveyed his latest
acquisition in cravats when he entered the door of their store that
afternoon, smiling a pleasan