rkwright & Thompson. Mr. Arkwright
was on the rostrum, and as Abe entered he was announcing the next lot.

"Look at them carefully, gentlemen," he said. "An opportunity like this
seldom arises. They are all fresh goods, woven this season for next
season's business--foulard silks of exceptionally good design and
quality."

At the word silks Abe started and made at once for the tables on which
the goods were piled. He examined them critically, and as he did so his
mind reverted to the half-tone cuts in the Daily Cloak and Suit Record.
Here was a rare chance to lay in a stock of piece goods that might not
recur for several years, certainly not before next season had passed.

"It's to close an estate, gentlemen," Mr. Arkwright continued. "The
proprietor of the mills died recently, and his executors have decided to
wind up the business. All these silk foulards will be offered as one
lot. What is the bid?"

Immediately competition became fast and furious, and Abe entered into
it with a zest and excitement that completely eclipsed all thought of
stock exchanges or copper shares. The bids rose by leaps and bounds, and
when, half an hour later, Abe emerged from the fray his collar was
melted to the consistency of a pocket handkerchief, but the light of
victory shone through his perspiration. He was the purchaser of the
entire lot, and by token of his ownership he indorsed the
twenty-five-hundred-dollar check to the order of Hill, Arkwright &
Thompson.

The glow of battle continued with Abe until he reached the show-room of
his own place of business at two o'clock.

"Well, Abe," Morris cried, "did you buy the stock?"

"Huh?" Abe exclaimed, and then, for the first time since he saw the silk
foulards, he remembered Interstate Copper.

"I was to Wasserbauer's Restaurant for lunch," Morris continued, "and in
the cafe I seen that thing what the baseball comes out of it, Abe."

"The tickler," Abe croaked.

"That's it," Morris went on. "Also, Sol Klinger was looking at it, and
he told me Interstate Copper was up to three already."

Abe sat down in a chair and passed his hand over his forehead.

"That's the one time when you give it us good advice, Abe," said Morris.
"Sol says we may make it three thousand dollars yet."

Abe nodded. He licked his dry lips and essayed to speak, but the words
of confession would not come.

"It was a lucky day for us, Abe, when you seen B. Sheitlis," Morris
continued. "Of course, I ain't sa