an an hour before and ought to have been billing and
cooing.

"No, Milton," Clara said as she caressed her fiance's hand, "credit
information shouldn't be entered on cards. It ought to be placed in an
envelope and indexed on a card index after it's been filed. Then you
can put the mercantile agency's report right in the envelope."

"Do you think we should get some of them loose-leaf ledgers?" he asked
her as he pressed a kiss on her left hand.

"I think they're sloppy," she replied. "Give me a bound ledger every
time."

"All right," Milton murmured. "Now, let's talk about something else."

"Yes," she cried enthusiastically, "let's talk about the fixtures. What
d'ye say to some of those low racks and----"

"Oh, cut it out!" Milton said as he took a snugger reef in his embrace.
"How about the music at the wedding?"

"Popper will fix that," she replied.

"No, he won't," Milton exclaimed. "I'm going to pay for it myself. In
fact, I'll hire 'em to-morrow morning."

"Who'll you get?" she asked.

"Professor Lusthaus's grand orchestra," Milton said with a grin.

CHAPTER SIX

BIRSKY & ZAPP

"A charitable sucker like Jonas Eschenbach, of Cordova, Ohio, is always
a close buyer, Barney," said Louis Birsky to his partner, Barnett Zapp,
as they sat in their show-room one morning in April. "For every dollar
he gives to an orphan asylum _oder_ a hospital, understand me, he beats
Adelstern down two on his prices; and supposing Adelstern does sell him
every season, for example, eight thousand dollars, Barney--what is it?"

"Sure, I know, Louis," Barnett Zapp retorted satirically. "The dawg
says the grapes ain't ripe because he couldn't reach 'em already."

Birsky shrugged his shoulders.

"For that matter, Barney," he said, "if the dawg could reach 'em _oder_
not, y'understand, it wouldn't make no difference, Barney, because a
dawg don't eat grapes anyhow. He eats meat, Barney; and, furthermore,
Barney, if you think it's _bekovet_ one partner calls the other partner
a dawg, y'understand, go ahead and do so, Barney."

"I ain't calling you a dawg, Louis," Zapp protested.

"Ain't you?" Louis rejoined. "All right, Barney, then I must be getting
deaf all of a sudden; but whether you are calling me a dawg _oder_ not,
Barney, I ain't looking to sell no goods to Jonas Eschenbach. On account
even if he would buy at our price, y'understand, then he wants us we
should _schnoder_ for this orphan asylum a hundred dollars