from hunger
yet, and I wouldn't lift a little finger."

Ferdy turned and appealed to B. Rashkin.

"Ain't them fine words to hear from my own brother-in-law?" he said.

"Nobody compels you to stay here and listen to 'em, Rothschild," Abe
interrupted. "And, anyhow, Rothschild, you could make it more money if
instead you stayed here you would go downtown to Henry D. Feldman's
office and sue this here Rashkin in the courts for your commission. I
was telling Feldman all about it this morning, and he says you got it a
good case."

"Rothschild," Rashkin cried pleadingly, "where are you going?"

"You shouldn't talk to me," Rothschild answered. "Potash is right. I
brought this here Marks to you and he was ready and willing to purchase
at your terms, and so, therefore, you owe me a commission of four
hundred and sixty-five dollars."

The next moment he banged the door behind him and five minutes later he
was followed by B. Rashkin, who had filled that short space of time with
an exhaustive and profane denunciation of Potash & Perlmutter,
individually and as copartners.

Five days afterward Morris examined the list of real-estate conveyances
in the morning paper, after the fashion of the reformed race-track
gambler who occasionally consults the past performances of the day's
entries.

He handed the paper to Abe and pointed his finger to the following item:

264th St. 2044 East 37.6 x 100.10; Baruch Rashkin to the Royal
Piccadilly Realty Co. (mtg $33,000), $100.

"That's only a fake," Abe said. "I seen in the paper yesterday that
Rashkin incorporated the Royal Piccadilly Realty Company with his wife,
Goldie Rashkin, as president; and I guess he done it because he got
scared that Rothschild would get a judgment against him. And so he
transfers the house to the corporation."

"But if he does that, Abe," Morris cried gleefully, "Ferdy Rothschild
would never collect on that judgment, because that house is all the
property Rashkin's got."

"I hope you don't feel bad about it, Mawruss," Abe said.

"I bet yer I feel terrible, Abe," Morris said ironically. "But why did
Rashkin call it the Royal Piccadilly Realty Company, Abe?"

"For the sake of old times yet," Abe answered. "I hear it from Sol
Klinger that before Rashkin busted up in the waist business he used to
make up a garment called the Royal Piccadilly."

"Is that so?" Morris commented. "I never heard he busted up in the waist
business, Abe. Why couldn't