r. Rothman will see you before he goes."

Ferdy Rothman lolled back in a chair, with one arm thrown over the top
rail after the fashion of Henry D. Feldman's imitation of Judge
Blatchford's portrait in the United States District Courtroom.

"Well, young man," he said in pompous accents, "how go the busy marts
of trade these days?"

Milton surveyed him in scornful amazement.

"Hire a hall!" he said, and returned to the sample-room. It lacked half
an hour of closing time, and during that period Milton avoided Miss
Levy's office.

At length Ferdinand Rothman and his father went home, and Milton once
more approached Miss Levy.

"Say, Miss Levy," he said, "who's that curly-haired young feller? Ain't
he the one I seen you dancing with last night?"

"Sure he is," Miss Levy replied.

"I thought he was," Milton commented. "And wasn't he one of
them--now--floor managers?"

"Ain't you nosy?" Miss Levy answered as she swept all the torn paper on
her desk into her apron.

"Well, wasn't he?" Milton insisted.

"Suppose he was?" she retorted. "All _you've_ got to do is to mail these
letters and be sure to get down at half-past seven sharp to-morrow
morning."

"Do you get here at half-past seven?" he asked.

"I certainly do," Miss Levy replied.

"All right," he said, as he gathered up the mail, "I'll be here."

Thus began the regeneration of Milton Zwiebel, for he soon perceived
that to Miss Clara Levy a box of candy was not nearly so acceptable a
token of his esteem as was a cheerful dusting of the sample stock.
Moreover, he discovered that it pleased Miss Levy to hear him talk
intelligently of the style-numbers and their prices, and it was not
long before he became as familiar with his employer's line as was Miss
Levy herself. As for his punctuality, it soon became a habit, and every
morning at half-past six he ate a hurried breakfast and left the house
long before the elder Zwiebel had concluded his toilet.

"I couldn't understand it, mommer," said Mr. Zwiebel, after Milton had
completed the sixth month of his employment with Levy Rothman. "That
boy goes downtown every morning, mommer, before daylight practically,
y'understand. He don't get home till half-past seven, and he stays home
pretty near every night, mommer, and that feller Rothman kicks yet.
Always he tells me the boy ain't worth a pinch of snuff and he wants I
shouldn't charge him no interest on that five thousand."

"That's something I couldn't under