Morris nodded.
"Well, you want to keep your hand on your pocketbook,
Mawruss," Abe went on, "because I hear it on good authority that feller ain't above selling the milk from his baby's bottle."
Morris paused with his hand on the door knob.
"That's the first I hear about it, Abe," he said. "Certainly, when a feller gets together a little money, y'understand, always there is somebody what knocks him, Abe. Who told you all this about Fixman, Abe?"
"A feller by the name Sol Klinger, Mawruss," Abe replied, "and if you don't believe me you could——"
But Morris cut off further comment by banging the door behind him and Abe turned to his task of preparing the sample line for his prospective customer's inspection. A half an hour later J. Edward Kleebaum entered the show-room and extended his hand to Abe.
"Hallo, Potash," he said. "You got to excuse me I'm a little late on account I had to look at a machine up on Fiftieth Street."
"That's a sample I suppose, ain't it?" Abe said.
"No," Kleebaum replied, "it's one of their stock machines, a Pfingst, nineteen-nine model."