man," she said, "Oppenheimer ain't credited us with that piece
of red velour we returned him on the twentieth, and he's charged us up
twice with the same item."

"That's a fine crook for you," Rothman cried. "Write him he should
positively rectify all mistakes before we would send him a check. That
feller's got a nerve like a horse, Mr. Zwiebel. He wants me I should
pay him net thirty days, and he never sends us a single statement
correct. Anything else, Miss Levy?"

"That's all, Mr. Rothman," she replied as she turned away.

Milton watched her as she closed the door behind her, and then he threw
down his hat and peeled off his coat.

"Gimme the feather duster," he said.

* * * * *

For two hours Milton wielded the feather broom, then Mr. Rothman went
out to lunch, and as a reflex Milton sank down in the nearest chair. He
opened the morning paper and buried himself in the past performances.

"Milton," a voice cried sharply, "ain't you got something to do?"

He looked up and descried Miss Levy herself standing over him.

"Naw," he said, "I finished the dusting."

Miss Levy took the paper gently but firmly from his hands.

"You come with me," she said.

He followed her to the office, where the monthly statements were ready
for mailing.

"Put the statements in those envelopes," she said, "and seal them up."

Milton sat down meekly on a high stool and piled up the envelopes in
front of him.

"Ain't you got any sponge for to wet these envelopes on?" he asked.

Miss Levy favoured him with a cutting glance.

"Ain't you delicate!" she said. "Use your tongue."

For five minutes Milton folded and licked and then he hazarded a
conversational remark:

"You like to dance pretty well, don't you?" he said.

"When I've got business to attend to," Miss Levy replied frigidly, "I
don't like anything."

"But I mean I seen you at the I.O.M.A.'s racket last night," Milton
continued, "and you seemed to be having a pretty good time."

Miss Levy suppressed a yawn.

"Don't mention it," she said; "I feel like a rag to-day. I didn't get
home till four o'clock."

This was something like friendly discourse, and Milton slackened up on
his work.

"Who was that feller with the curly hair you was dancing with?" he
began, when Miss Levy looked up and noted the cessation of his labour.

"Never you mind who he was, Milton," she answered. "You finish licking
those envelopes."

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