t greeting at his prospective customers.

He presented so brilliant a picture that Miss Cohen was drawn from her
desk in the glass-enclosed office toward the trio in the sample room as
inevitably as the moth to the candle flame. She took up some cutting
slips from a table, by way of excuse for her intrusion, but the blush
and smile with which she acknowledged Ike's rather perfunctory nod
betrayed her. Abe was fingering the Hamsuckett swatches, but Miss
Cohen's embarrassment did not escape Morris Perlmutter. He marked it
with an inward start, and immediately conceived a brilliant idea.

"Ike," he said, when Abe had completed the giving of a small order and
had left them alone together, "a young feller like you ought to get
married."

Ike was non-committal.

"Sure Mawruss," he replied. "Every young feller ought to get married."

"I'm glad you look at it so sensible, Ike," Morris went on. "Getting
married right, Ike, has been the making of many a young feller. Where
d'ye suppose Goldner & Plotkin would be to-day if they hadn't got
married right? They'd be selling goods for somebody else, Ike. But
Goldner, he married Bella Frazinsky, with a couple of thousand dollars
maybe; and Plotkin, he goes to work and gets Garfunkel's sister--she was
pretty old, Ike; but if she ain't got a fine complexion, Ike, she got a
couple of thousand dollars, too, ain't it? Well, Plotkin with his two
thousand and Goldner with his two thousand, they start in together as
new beginners. They gets the selling agency for the Hamsuckett people,
and then they makes big money and buys them out. To-day Goldner &
Plotkin is rich men, and all because they got married _right_!"

Feinsilver listened with parted lips.

"And now, Ike," Morris continued, "the good seed sown, we talked enough,
ain't it? Come on to the office. I want to show you some little mistakes
in the Hamsuckett statement."

He conducted Ike to the glass-enclosed office, where Miss Cohen bent low
over her ledger. The blush with which she had received Ike's greeting
had not entirely disappeared; and, as she glanced up, her large black
eyes looked like those of a frightened deer. Morris was forced to admit
to himself that if her bookkeeping was doubtful, at least there could be
no mistake about her charms. As for Ike, now that the business of
securing orders was done with, he surrendered himself to gallantry, for
which he had a natural aptitude.

"Ah, Miss Cohen," he said, "ain't it a