e concluded, "if you want me to marry a
good-looking girl--this afternoon yet we could go downtown and get the
license."

Mrs. Schrimm sat still for two minutes and then she disengaged her hand
from Sam's eager clasp.

"All I got to do is to put on a clean waist," she said, "and I would
get my hat on in ten minutes."

* * * * *

"The fact of the matter is," Max Gembitz said, two days later, "we
ain't got the ready money."

Sam Gembitz nodded. He sat at a desk in Henry Schrimm's office--a new
desk of the latest Wall Street design; and on the third finger of his
left hand a plain gold band was surmounted by a three-carat diamond
ring, the gift of the bride.

"No?" he said, with a rising inflection.

"And you know as well as I do, popper, we was always a little short
this time of the year in our business!" Max continued.

"Our business?" Sam repeated. "You mean your business, Max."

"What difference does it make?" Max asked.

"It makes a whole lot of difference, Max," Sam declared; "because, if I
would be a partner in your business, Max, I would practically got to be
one of my own competitors."

"One of your own competitors!" Max cried. "What d'ye mean?"

For answer Sam handed his son the following card:

SAMUEL GEMBITZ HENRY SCHRIMM

GEMBITZ & SCHRIMM

CLOAKS & SUITS

--WEST NINETEENTH STREET NEW YORK

Max gazed at the card for five minutes and then he placed it in his
waistcoat-pocket.

"So you are out to do us--what?" Max said bitterly.

"What are you talking about--out to do you?" Sam replied. "How could an
old-timer like me do three up-to-date fellers like you and Sidney and
Lester? I'm a back number, Max. I ain't got gumption enough to make up
a whole lot of garments, all in one style, pastel shades, and sell 'em
all to a concern which is on its last legs, Max. I couldn't play this
here _Baytzimmer_ feller's pool, Max, and I couldn't sit up all hours
of the night eating lobsters and oysters and ham and bacon in the
Harlem Winter Garden, Max."

He paused to indulge in a malicious grin.

"Furthermore, Max," he continued, "how could a poor, sick old man
compete with a lot of healthy young fellers like you boys? I've got
Bright's Disease, Max, and I could drop down in the street any minute.
And if you don't believe me, Max, you should ask Doctor Eichendorfer.
He will tell you the same."

Max made no reply, but took up his hat