Immediately competition became fast and furious, and Abe entered into it with a zest and excitement that completely eclipsed all thought of stock exchanges or copper shares. The bids rose by leaps and bounds, and when, half an hour later, Abe emerged from the fray his collar was melted to the consistency of a pocket handkerchief, but the light of victory shone through his perspiration. He was the
purchaser of the entire lot, and by token of his ownership he indorsed the twenty-five-hundred-dollar check to the order of Hill, Arkwright & Thompson.
The glow of battle continued with Abe until he reached the show-room of his own place of business at two o'clock.
"Well, Abe," Morris cried, "did you buy the stock?"
"Huh?" Abe exclaimed, and then, for the first time since he saw the silk foulards, he remembered Interstate Copper.
"I was to Wasserbauer's Restaurant for lunch," Morris continued, "and in the café I seen that thing what the baseball comes out of it, Abe."
"The tickler," Abe croaked.
"That's it," Morris went on. "Also, Sol Klinger was looking at it, and he told me Interstate Copper was up to three already."
Abe sat down in a chair and passed his hand over his forehead.
"That's the one time when you give it us good advice, Abe," said Morris. "Sol says we may make it three thousand dollars yet."