southwest brought with it a faint odour of salt herring and onions from
the grocery store next door, while from the bakery across the street
came the fragrant evidence of a large batch of _Kuemmel brod_. He sighed
contentedly and turned to reenter the house, but even as he did so he
wheeled about in response to the greeting: "How do you do, Mr.
Kronberg?"

The speaker was none other than Morris Perlmutter, who had tossed on his
pillow until past midnight devising a plan for approaching Uncle Mosha
in a plausible manner. Now that his quarry had fallen so opportunely
within his grasp, Morris's face wreathed itself in smiles of such
amiability that Uncle Mosha grew at once suspicious.

"You got the advantage from me," he said.

"Why, don't you know me?" Morris cooed.

"I think," Uncle Mosha replied guardedly, "I seen you oncet before
somewheres. You are a collector for a hospital or a orphan asylum, or
some such sucker game. Ain't it?"

Morris laughed mirthlessly. His discarded plan for renewing his
acquaintance with Uncle Mosha had involved the pretence that he was
seeking to interest the old gentleman in the Home for Chronic Invalids,
Independent Order Mattai Aaron, of which fraternity Morris was an active
member; and Uncle Mosha's apparent distaste for organized charity proved
rather disconcerting.

"You're a poor guesser, Mr. Kronberg," he said.

"Then you are connected with some charity. Ain't it?" Uncle Mosha
continued.

Morris denied it indignantly.

"_Gott soil hueten_," he said. "My name is Mr. Perlmutter and I am in the
cloak and suit business."

"Oh, I remember now!" Uncle Mosha cried. The news that Morris was no
charity worker restored him to high good-humour.

"I remember you perfect now," he said, shaking hands effusively with
Morris. "You got a partner by the name Potash, ain't it?"

"That's right," Morris replied.

"And what brings you over here in this _nachbarschaft_?" Uncle Mosha
inquired.

Morris looked from Uncle Mosha to the tarnished brass plate on the side
of the tenement-house door. It read as follows:

M. KRONBERG
REAL ESTATE

"The fact is," Morris said, "I am coming to see you in a business way,
and if you got time I'd like to say a little something to you."

"Come inside," Uncle Mosha grunted. He thought he discerned a furtive
timidity in his visitor's manner strongly indicative of an impending
touch.

"In the first place," he began, after Morris was seated, "I