nd
her uncle also a good customer, I should be sorry, Abe."

"Then, we're going to keep her, after all--what?" Abe said.

"No, we ain't going to keep her," said Morris. "We're going to lose
her."

"_Lose_ her! What d'ye mean?"

Morris smiled in a superior way.

"Abe," he said, "you ain't got no eyes in your head. Ain't you noticed
that ring on Miss Cohen's left hand?"

Abe stared in astonishment.

"It's a beauty, Abe," Morris went on. "A bright young feller like Ike
Feinsilver don't get stuck, no matter what he buys. He got it through
Plotkin's cousin down on Maiden Lane."

Abe sat down to ponder over the news.

"You mean," he said at length, "that Ike Feinsilver, of the Hamsuckett
Mills, is going to marry Miss Cohen?"

"You guessed it right, Abe," Morris replied.

"And who fixed it up?" said Abe.

Morris slapped his chest proudly.

"I did," he replied.

Abe smoked on in silence.

"I suppose I must congratulate her, Mawruss?" he said at length,
starting to rise.

"There's no hurry," said Morris. "I let her go uptown this morning. She
wanted to do some shopping."

Abe sat down again.

"You done a smart piece of work, Mawruss, I must say," he admitted.
"Ike's a good feller, and Miss Cohen'll make him a good wife, even if
she ain't a good bookkeeper. Also, we done a good turn to Max Cohen. I
bet he's pleased. I wonder he ain't been around yet."

Hardly had the words issued from Mr. Potash's mouth, when the store-door
opened to admit a short, thick-set person, and then closed again with a
bang that threatened every pane of glass in the vicinity. There was no
hesitation about the newcomer's actions. He made straight for the sample
room, and had almost reached it before Abe could scramble to his feet.
The latter rushed forward and grabbed the visitor's hand.

"Mr. Cohen," he cried, "what a pleasure this is! I congratulate you!"

Mr. Cohen withdrew his hand from Abe's cordial grasp.

"You congradulate _me_, hey?" he said, with slow and ironic emphasis.
"Mawruss Perlmutter _also_ congradulates me--what?" He fixed the unhappy
Morris with a terrible glare. "Don't congradulate _me_," he went on.
"Congradulate Ike Feinsilver and Beckie Cohen." He gathered force as he
proceeded. "Fools!" he continued in a rapid crescendo. "Meddlers! You
spill my blood! You ruin me! I'm a millionaire, you tell Feinsilver.
I've got nothing to do with my money but that I should throw it away in
the street!"

"_Mister_ Co