and I don't want
to be bothered with their trade. What could I show your friends, Mr.
Merech?"

Max winked almost imperceptibly at Elkan and prepared to approach the
subject of the Jacobean chairs by a judicious detour.

"Do you got maybe a couple Florentine frames, Ringentaub?" he asked; and
Ringentaub shook his head.

"Florentine frames is hard to find nowadays, Mr. Merech," he said; "and
I guess I told it you Friday that I ain't got none."

Elkan shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"I thought might you would of picked up a couple since then, maybe," Max
rejoined, glancing round him. "You got a pretty nice highboy over there,
Ringentaub, for a reproduction."

Ringentaub nodded satirically.

"That only goes to show how much you know about such things, Mr.
Merech," he retorted, "when you are calling reproductions something
which it is a gen-wine Shippendaler, understand me, in elegant
condition."

It was now Elkan's turn to nod, and he did so with just the right
degree of skepticism as at last he broached the object of his visit.

"I suppose," he said, "that them chairs over there is also gen-wine
Jacobean chairs?"

* * * * *

"I'll tell you what I'll do with you, Mr. Merech," Ringentaub declared.
"You could bring down here any of them good Fourth Avenue or Fifth
Avenue dealers, understand me, or any conoozer you want to name, like
Jacob Paul, _oder_ anybody, y'understand; and if they would say them
chairs ain't gen-wine Jacobean I'll make 'em a present to you free for
nothing."

"I ain't _schnorring_ for no presents, Mr. Ringentaub," Max declared.
"Bring 'em out in the light and let's give a look at 'em."

Ringentaub drew the chairs into the centre of the floor, and placing
them beneath the gas jet he stepped backward and tilted his head to one
side in silent admiration.

"_Nu_, Mr. Merech," he said at last, "am I right or am I wrong? Is the
chairs gen-wine _oder_ not? I leave it to your friends here."

Max turned to Elkan, who had been edging away toward the partition, from
which came scraps of conversation between Dishkes and Mrs. Ringentaub.

"What do you think, Mr. Lubliner?" Max asked; and Elkan frowned his
annoyance at the interruption, for he had just begun to catch a few
words of the conversation in the rear room.

"Sure--sure!" he said absently. "I leave it to you and Mrs. Lubliner."

Yetta's face had fallen as she viewed the apparently decayed and rickety
furnitu