rlmutter his manner toward Leon was
bland and apologetic.

"Well, Leon," he said, "how's business?"

Leon's face wrinkled into a smile.

"It could be better, of course, Abe," he said, "but we done a tremendous
spring trade, anyhow, even though we ain't got no more that sucker Louis
Grossman working for us. We shipped a couple of three-thousand-dollar
orders last week. One of 'em to Strauss, Kahn & Baum, of Fresno."

These were old customers of Potash & Perlmutter, and Abe winced.

"They was old customers of ours, Leon," he said, "but they done such a
cheap class of trade we couldn't cut our line enough to please 'em."

"Is that so?" Leon rejoined. "Maybe M. Garfunkel was an old customer of
yours, too, Abe."

"M. Garfunkel?" Abe cried. "Was M. Garfunkel the other?"

"He certainly was," Leon boasted. "We shipped him three thousand
dollars. One of our best customers, Abe. Always pays to the day."

For the remainder of the subway journey Abe was quite unresponsive to
Leon's jibes, a condition which Leon attributed to chagrin, and as they
parted at Canal Street Leon could not forbear a final gloat.

"I suppose, Abe, M. Garfunkel does too cheap a class of trade to suit
you, also. Ain't it?" he said.

Abe made no reply, and as he walked south toward White Street Max
Lapidus, of Lapidus & Elenbogen, another and a smaller competitor,
bumped into him.

"Hallo, Abe," Max said. "What's that Leon Sammet was saying just now
about M. Garfunkel?"

"Oh, M. Garfunkel is a good customer of his," Abe replied cautiously;
"so he claims."

"Don't you believe it," said Max. "M. Garfunkel told me himself he used
to do some business with Sammet Brothers, but he don't do it no more. We
done a big business with M. Garfunkel ourselves."

"So?" Abe commented.

"We sold him a couple of thousand dollars at ninety days last week,"
Lapidus went on. "He's elegant pay, Abe. We sold him a good-size order
every couple of months this season, and he pays prompt to the day. Once
he discounted his bill."

"Is that so?" Abe said, as they reached the front of Potash &
Perlmutter's store. "Glad to hear M. Garfunkel is so busy. Good-morning,
Max."

Morris Perlmutter met him at the door.

"Hallo, Abe," he cried. "What's the matter? You look pale. Is Rosie
worse?"

Abe shook his head.

"Mawruss," he said, "did you ship them goods to M. Garfunkel yet?"

"They'll be out in ten minutes," Morris replied.

"Hold 'em for a while till I teleph