"I know you didn't, Abe," Mr. Bramson replied firmly, "but either you will pay for it or I will go over to Lapidus & Elenbogen's and they will pay for it. They'll be only too glad to pay for it, Abe, because I bet yer Miss Atkinson she give 'em a pretty big order already, Abe."
Abe frowned and then shrugged. "All right," he
said; "if I must I must. So come on now, Mr. Bramson, and look over the line."
In the meantime Morris had repaired to the bookkeeper's desk and was looking over the daybook with an unseeing eye. His mind was occupied with bitter reflections when Ralph Tuchman interrupted him.
"Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "I'm going to leave."
"Going to leave?" Morris cried. "What for?"
"Well, in the first place, I don't like it to be called out of my name," he continued. "Mr. Potash calls me Ike, and my name is Ralph. If a man's name is Ralph, Mr. Perlmutter, he naturally don't like it to be called Ike."
"I know it," Morris agreed, "but some people ain't got a good memory for names, Ralph. Even myself I forget it names, too, oncet in a while, occasionally."
"But that ain't all, Mr. Perlmutter," Ralph went on. "Yesterday, while you was out, Mr. Potash accuses me something terrible."
"Accuse you?" Morris said. "What does he accuse you for?"