a hundred."

Thus rebuked, Abe paid over the sixty dollars, and Hymie and he went
back to the store. Precisely at three a deputy sheriff entered the front
door and flashed a gold badge as big as a dinner-plate. His stay was
brief, and in five minutes he had relieved Abe of all his spare cigars
and departed, leaving only a certified copy of the replevin order and a
strong smell of whisky to signalize the transfer of the Empire gowns
from Hymie to Abe.

Hardly had he banged the door behind him when a messenger boy entered
and handed a telegram to Abe.

"Ain't shipped no goods but the 4022's," it read. "Have wired Lowenstein
to return the 4022s. MORRIS."

"Fine! Fine!" Abe exclaimed. He tipped the boy a dime and was about to
acquaint Hyman with the good news, when another messenger boy entered
and delivered a second telegram to Abe. It read as follows:

"Lowenstein wires he insists on delivery entire order complete,
otherwise he will sue. What shall I wire him? MORRIS."

Abe seized his hat and dashed down the street to the telegraph office.

"Gimme a blank," he said to the operator, who handed him a whole padful.
For the next twenty minutes Abe scribbled and tore up by turns until he
finally evolved a satisfactory missive. This he handed to the operator,
who read it with a broad grin and passed it back at once.

"Wot d'ye take me for?" he said. "A bum? Dere's ladies in de main
office."

Abe glared at the operator and began again.

"Here," he said to the operator after another quarter of an hour of
scribbling and tearing up, "send this."

It was in the following form:

_Don't send no more goods to Lowenstein
" " " " wires " nobody_

"Fourteen words," the operator said. "Fifty-four cents."

"What's that?" Abe cried. "What yer trying to do? Make money on me? That
ain't no fourteen words. That's _nine_ words."

"It is, hey?" the operator rejoined. "Quit yer kiddin'. Dat's fourteen
words. Ditto marks don't go, see?"

"You're a fresh young feller," said Abe, paying over fifty-four cents,
"and I got a good mind to report you to the head office."

The operator laughed raucously.

"G'wan!" he said. "Beat it, or I'll sick de cops onter yer. It's agin
the law to cuss in Pittsburgh, even by telegraft."

When Abe returned to the Outlet Auction House's store Hyman was busy
stacking up the plum-color gowns in piles convenient for shipping.

"Well, Abe," he said, "I thought you was here for a