ake, Mr. Pinsky," Miss
Meyerson cried. "Don't give him any, Mr. Fatkin; it'll only make him
worse."

She shook her head warningly at Aaron as she and Sam walked back to the
office.

"What d'ye think for a fresh woman like that?" he said to Max as Miss
Meyerson's head once more bent over her books.

"She ain't fresh, Aaron," Max replied. "She's just got a heart,
y'understand."

"But----" Aaron began.

"But nothing, Aaron," Max broke in. "I will wrap up the medicine and
you will take it home with you. The girl knows what she is talking
about, Aaron, and the best thing for you to do is to leave off
_schnapps_ a little while and do what she says you should. I see on the
bottle it's from Doctor Goldenreich. He's a speci_al_itist from the
chest and lungs, and I bet yer if you would go to him he would soak you
ten dollars yet."

No argument could have appealed so strongly to Aaron as this did, and
he thrust the bottle into his breast-pocket without another word.

"And how is Fillup coming on?" he asked.

"We couldn't complain," Max replied. "The boy is a good boy, Aaron. He
is learning our line like he would be with us six months already."

"That's good," Aaron commented. "I bet yer before he would be here a
month yet he would know the line as good as Sam and you."

Max smiled.

"I says the boy is a good boy, Aaron," he said, "but I never says he
was a miracle, y'understand."

"That ain't no miracle, Max," Aaron retorted. "That's a prophecy."

Max smiled again, but the prediction more than justified itself in less
than a month, for at the end of that time Philip knew the style-number
and price of every garment in Zaretsky & Fatkin's line.

"I never see nothing like it, Sam," Max said. "The boy is a human
catalogue. You couldn't stump him on nothing."

"Sure, I know," Sam replied. "Sometimes I got to think we make a
mistake in letting that boy know all our business."

"A mistake!" Max repeated. "What d'ye mean a mistake?"

"I mean, Max, that the first thing you know Aaron goes around blowing
to our competitors how well that boy is doing here, Max, and then a
concern like Sammet Brothers or Klinger & Klein would offer the boy
seven dollars a week, and some fine day we'll come downtown and find
that Fillup's got another job. Also the feller what hires him would
have a human catalogue of our whole line, prices and style-numbers
complete."

"Always you are looking for trouble, Sam," Max cried.

"Looking fo