Max paused before formulating a
rejoinder.

"In the first place, Sidney," he began, "you didn't got no right to lead
no trump. I told you before lots of times, if you got the extra ten, get
rid of your meld first. And in the second place, Sidney, I wouldn't
stand for your extravagance no longer. It's time you turned around and
attended to business."

"Aw, you never give me no show!" Sidney protested. "You keep me
monkeying around while other young fellers is out on the road. Look at
Mortie Savin and all them boys."

"Sure, I know," Max rejoined. "They got heads on 'em. You couldn't add
up eight figures together, and at your age for a feller to write a hand
like that, Sidney----"

"What are you kicking about?" Sidney exclaimed. "When you was my age you
couldn't sign your name even."

"Well, that ain't here nor there, Sidney," Max replied as he pulled a
bill from the roll which he produced from his trousers pocket. "Here
is ten dollars and that's got to last you till Saturday night. D'ye
understand?"

Sidney grunted as he tucked the bill into his waistcoat. He had heard
the same ultimatum once a week for the past two years, and he whistled
cheerfully as he despatched one of the stock boys for a package of
cigarettes. An hour later he lunched at Hammersmith's, while Abe Potash
sat at an adjacent table. As he consumed a modest portion of
_rostbraten_, Abe noted with a disapproving eye the cherry-stone clams,
green-turtle soup and _filet Chateaubriand_ which formed the menu of the
Heir Apparent; and when the latter topped off his meal with half a pint
of dry champagne and a _cafe parfait_ Abe seized his hat and fairly ran
from the restaurant.

"If nobody would tell that feller Koblin what a lowlife bum he got it
for a son, Mawruss," he said as he entered the firm's private office ten
minutes later, "I will. Actually with my own eyes I seen it--the feller
eats for five dollars a lunch, and he ain't with a customer nor
nothing."

"What is it your business what Sidney Koblin is eating, Abe?" Morris
rejoined. "If you wouldn't notice every mouthful the feller puts in his
face at all you would be back here a whole lot sooner. There's a feller
waiting for you in the showroom over half an hour since."

"Who is he?" Abe asked.

"I think it's that Mr.--Who's this, from Seattle, which he was in here
last fall and nearly bought from us them polo coats? I couldn't tell his
face exactly, but you remember what a swell dresser