Morris nodded.
"Something about two dollars and fifty cents," he said.
"That's what I thought," Flachs replied, "and for two dollars and fifty cents there ain't much choice. Olive dishes is all I could show you."
"Let me give a look at 'em," Morris said, and as Flachs led the way to the well-stocked shelves in the rear of the store Morris discerned for the first time the presence of another customer.
"How much did you say that there coffee samovar was?" cried a familiar voice.
"I told you before, Mr. Klinger," Flachs said, "that ain't no samovar. That's a perculater and it cost me, so sure as I am standing here, fifteen dollars, so I would let you have it for twelve-fifty on account its being shopworn."
"Take ten dollars and make an end," rejoined Klinger, tendering a bill.
"For ten dollars I could give you a fine piece cut glass, Mr. Klinger," Flachs insisted.
By way of answer Klinger tucked away the ten-dollar bill he had taken from his waistcoat pocket, and Flachs seized the coffee percolator with both hands.
"I'll wrap it up for you right away," he said, and then it was that Klinger recognized Morris, who had been standing unnoticed in the background.