"There ain't much to tell, Abe," Sol went on, "except that this here Rabiner does something I never heard about before in all my experience in the cloak and suit business."
"No?" Abe croaked. "What was that?"
"Why, this here Rabiner gets an order from Prosnauer, of the Arcade Mercantile Company, for garments what we ain't got in our line at all," Sol Klinger explained; "and Prosnauer furnishes us the sample garments, which we are to return to him just so soon as we can copy them, and then——"
"S'enough," Abe cried. "I heard enough, Sol. Don't rub it in."
"Why, what do you mean, Abe?" Sol asked.
"I mean I got it a salesman in Chicago, Sol," Abe went on, "what ain't sent us so much as a smell of an order. I guess there's only one thing for me to do, Sol, and that's to go myself to Chicago and see what he's up to."
Sol looked shocked.
"Don't you do it, Abe," he said. "Klein got a brother-in-law what got the rheumatism like you got it, Abe, and the feller insisted on going to Boston. The railroad trip finished him, I bet yer."
"Did he die?" Abe asked.
"Well, no, he didn't die exactly," Klinger replied; "but on the train the rheumatism went to his head, and that poor, sick young feller took a whole theayter