"I have to leave town to-morrow on a case," Miss Smith explained, "and I need a dress in a hurry, something light for evening wear."
Morris frowned perplexedly.
"That's too bad," he said, "because just at present we got nothing but last year's goods in stock—all except—all except this."
He unfolded the model and shook it out.
"What a pretty dress!" Miss Smith cried, clasping her hands.
"Pretty!" Morris exclaimed. "How could you say it was pretty?"
"It's perfectly stunning," Miss Smith continued. "What size is it, Mr. Perlmutter?"
"The usual size," Morris replied; "thirty-six."
"Why, that's just my size," Miss Smith declared. "Let me see it." Morris handed her the dress and she examined it carefully. "What a pity," she said, "it has a slight rip in front. Somebody's been handling it carelessly."
"Sure, I know," Morris said. "I tore it myself, Miss Smith; but if you really and truly like it, Miss Smith, which I tell you the truth I don't, and my partner neither, you are welcome to it, and I would give you a little piece from the same goods which you could fix up the rip with."