ead of pleasure, Aaron," Sam broke in hurriedly, with a
significant frown at his partner. "The boy will got lots of time to
make birds in the dull season. Just now we are rushed to death, Aaron.
Come, Fillup, I'll show you where you should put your hat and coat."

Max forced an amiable smile as he handed Aaron Pinsky a cigar.

"I congradulate you, Aaron," he said. "You got a smart boy for a
nephew, and I bet yer he would learn quick the business. For a start we
will pay him three dollars a week."

Aaron stared indignantly and almost snatched the proffered cigar from
Max's hand.

"Three dollars a week!" he exclaimed. "What do you take the boy for--a
greenhorn? Positively you should pay the boy five dollars, otherwise he
would put on his clothes and go right straight home."

"But, Aaron," Max protested, "I _oser_ got three dollars a week when I
started in as a new beginner. I was glad they should pay me two dollars
a week so long as I learned it the business."

"I suppose you went to business college, too, Max. What? I bet yer when
you first went to work you got to think hard before you could sign your
name even."

Max shrugged his shoulders.

"Birds, I couldn't make it, Aaron," he admitted; "but the second week I
was out of Castle Garden my mother, _selig_, sends me to night school,
and they don't learn you birds in night school, Aaron. But, anyhow,
Aaron, what's the use we should quarrel about it? If you want we should
pay the boy five dollars a week--all right. I'm sure if he's worth
three he's worth five. Ain't it? And what's more, Aaron, if the boy
shows he takes an interest we would give him soon a raise of a couple
of dollars. We ain't small."

"I know you ain't, Max," said Aaron, "otherwise I wouldn't bring the
boy here at all."

He looked proudly toward the rear of the showroom where Philip was
examining the ticketed garments under the supervision of Sam Zaretsky.

"The boy already takes an interest, Max," he said; "I bet yer he would
know your style-numbers by to-night already."

For half an hour longer Sam Zaretsky explained the sample line to
Philip, and at length he handed the boy a feather duster, and returned
to the front of the showroom.

"The boy is all right, Aaron," he said. "A good, smart boy, Max, and he
ain't afraid to open his mouth, neither."

"I bet yer he ain't," Aaron replied, as Philip approached with a sample
garment in one hand and the feather duster in the other.

"Look, M