fine weather?"

A pleased smile spread itself over Morris's face.

"I think I hear the telephone in the sample room," he broke in
hurriedly. "Excuse me for a moment."

When he returned, Ike and Miss Cohen were chatting gaily.

"What do you think of _that_?" Morris cried. "My Minnie just rang me up
and says she got tickets for the theayter to-morrow night--two tickets.
We can't use 'em, because we're going to a--a wedding. Would you two
young folks like to go, maybe?"

"Why, sure," Ike said. "Sure we would. Wouldn't we, Miss Cohen?"

Miss Cohen assented bashfully.

"Well, then," said Morris, "I'll get 'em for you--I mean I'll send 'em
you by mail to-night, Ike."

Ike was profuse in his thanks; and then and there arranged to call for
Miss Cohen at half-past seven, sharp, the following evening.

Morris beamed his approval and shook hands heartily with Ike as the
latter turned to leave.

"How about that mistake in the statement?" Ike asked.

"Some other time," said Morris, walking with Ike toward the store-door.
Then he sank his voice to a confidential whisper. "That's a fine girl,
Miss Cohen," he went on. "Comes of fine family, too. She's Max Cohen's
niece. You know Max Cohen. He's the Beacon Credit Outfitting Company.
He's a _millionaire_, Ike. If he's worth a cent, he's worth a hundred
thousand dollars!"

Ike turned on him an awed yet searching look as they clasped hands again
in parting.

"I give you my word, Ike, she's his favourite niece," Morris concluded,
"_and he ain't got no children of his own_."

* * * * *

The ensuing week was a busy one for all concerned. Abe was occupied in
the store with an unusual rush of spring trade, Morris had his hands
full in the office and cutting-room; but Miss Cohen and Ike Feinsilver
had been busiest of all, for in less than six days after their visit to
the theatre a solitaire diamond-ring sparkled on the third finger of the
lady's left hand.

"Well, Mawruss," Abe said ten days later, "I suppose you fired Miss
Cohen?"

"Me fire Miss Cohen?" Morris exclaimed. "I'm surprised to hear you that
you should talk that way, Abe. What for should I fire Miss Cohen?"

"Why, last week you said you was going to fire her, ain't it?"

"Last week," Morris replied, "was another day. If I ain't got no more
sense than that I should go to a fine young lady like Miss Cohen, and
say, 'Miss Cohen, you're fired,' after she worked for us five years, a