"Right away!" Louis cried. "Yes, sir, we got some nice Koenigsberger Klops to-day mit Kartoffel Kloes."
"What d'ye take this gentleman for, anyway, Louis?" Abe asked. "A garbage can? Give him a
nice slice of roast beef well done and a baked potato. Also bring two cups of coffee and give it the checks to me."
By a quarter to two Abe and Morris had passed from business matters to family affairs, and after they had exchanged cigars and the conversation had reached a stage where Morris had just accepted an invitation to dine at Abe's house, Noblestone and Zudrowsky entered, with Harry Federmann bringing up in the rear. Harry was evidently in disfavor, and his weak, blond face wore the crestfallen look of a whipped child, for he had been so occupied with his billing and cooing up town, that he had forgotten his business engagement.
"Hallo, Mr. Perlmutter," Noblestone cried, and then he caught sight of Morris' companion and the remains of their generous meal. "I thought you was going to take lunch with us."
"Do I got to starve, Mr. Who's-this—I lost your card—just because I was fool enough to take up your proposition yesterday? I should of known better in the first place."
"But this here young feller, Mr. Federmann, got detained uptown," Zudrowsky explained. "His wife got took suddenly sick."
"Why, she may have to have an operation," Noblestone said in a sudden burst of imaginative enthusiasm.
"You should tell your troubles to a doctor," Abe said, rising from the table. "And besides, Noblestone,