while Morris turned to Miss
Cohen.

"Well, Miss Cohen," he said, "how did you make out by the fire just
now?"

Miss Cohen blushed and patted her pompadour.

"Oh, Mr. Perlmutter," she said, "I was scared stiff, and Mr. Margulies,
the expressman, pretty near carried me up to the roof and we stays there
till the fireman says we should come down."

"And where's Margulies?" Morris asked.

"He's gone back to the cutting-room," Miss Cohen replied. "When he seen
the smoke coming up he shuts quick the iron door on the freight elevator
and everything's all right in the cutting-room, only a little water by
the elevator shaft."

"And how about the packages from Feinholz?" Morris continued. But before
Miss Cohen could reply Abe burst into the show-room with a broad grin on
his face.

"That's a good joke on Feinholz, Mawruss," he said. "All the fire was in
the elevator shaft and them garments what he returned it us is nothing
but ashes."

"But, Abe," Morris began, when the telephone bell trilled impatiently.
Abe took up the receiver.

"Hallo!" he said. "Yes, this is Potash. Oh, hallo, Feinholz!"

"Say, Potash," Feinholz said at the other end of the wire, "we got the
store full of people here. Couldn't you send up them capes right away?"

Abe put his hand over the mouthpiece of the 'phone.

"It's Feinholz," he said to Morris. "He wants them capes right away.
What shall I tell him?"

"Tell him nothing," Morris cried. "The first thing you know you will say
something to that feller, and he sues us yet for damages because we
didn't deliver the goods."

Abe hesitated for a minute.

"You talk to him," he said at length.

Morris seized the receiver from his partner.

"Hallo, Feinholz," he yelled. "We don't want nothing to say to you at
all. We are through with you. That's all. Good-by."

He hung up the receiver and turned to Abe.

"When I deal with a crook like Feinholz," he said, "I'm afraid for
my life."

Ten minutes later he went out to lunch and when he returned he
brandished the early edition of an evening paper.

"What you think it says here, Abe?" he cried. "It says the fire
downstairs was caused by an operator throwing a cigarettel in the
clipping bin. Ain't that a quincidence, Abe?"

"I bet yer that's a quincidence," Abe replied. "A couple more of them
quincidences, Mawruss, and we got to pay double for our insurance. I
only wish we would be finished collecting on our policies for this here
quincidenc