the Arcade Mercantile Company.

"Mr. Prosnauer," he cried as he burst into Prosnauer's office in the
cloak department, "my name is Mr. Potash, of Potash & Perlmutter, from
New York. Did you seen it my salesman, Marks Pasinsky?"

"Sit down, Mr. Potash," Prosnauer said, "and don't excite yourself."

"I ain't exciting myself," Abe exclaimed. "I don't got to excite myself,
Mr. Prosnauer. I am excited enough already when I think to myself that
that lowlife Pasinsky takes my samples out of my store and comes here
with my money and gets an order from you for four thousand dollars for
Klinger & Klein."

"Not so fast, Mr. Potash," Prosnauer began. "I've known Marks Pasinsky
for a number of years. He and I play auction pinochle together every
Saturday night when he is in Chicago, and----"

"Auction pinochle!" Abe interrupted, throwing up his hands. "_Das fehlt
nur noch_!"

"As I was saying, Mr. Potash," Prosnauer went on with a withering glance
at Abe, "those samples are outside, and Pasinsky has asked me to ship
them to Klinger & Klein, and----"

"Ship 'em!" Abe cried. "You shouldn't ship nothing. Them samples belongs
to me."

"How do I know that?" Prosnauer asked. "Is your name engraved on 'em?"

"All right," Abe cried, jumping to his feet. "All right, Mr. Prosnauer.
If you are going to make jokes with me I got nothing to say, but I give
you warning that you should do absolutely nothing with them samples till
I send a sheriff round for them."

"Now you're making threats," said Prosnauer.

"With people like Marks Pasinsky," Abe retorted as he paused at the
door, "I don't got to make no threats. I know who I am dealing with, Mr.
Prosnauer, and so, instead I should make threats I go right away and see
a lawyer, and he will deliver the goods. That's all I got to say."

"Hold on there, Mr. Potash," Prosnauer cried. "It ain't necessary for
you to see a lawyer. Prove to me that you own the samples and you can
have 'em."

Abe hesitated.

"Well," he said, "if you would hold it them samples till to-morrow
noon, Mr. Prosnauer, I'll give you all the proofs you want."

"Very well," Prosnauer said, "I'll hold them. When will you be back?"

"Before twelve to-morrow," Abe replied. "Believe me, Mr. Prosnauer, I
ain't so stuck on paying lawyers. If I can settle this thing up nice and
friendly I would do so."

They shook hands, and Abe retraced his steps to the hotel, where he
again inquired for Marks Pasinsky.

"He hasn't