"Who was there?" Abe asked. "The doctor?"
"Not the doctor," Morris went on. "The boy was there. Minnie is doing fine. The doctor said everything would be all right."
"That's good. That's good," Abe murmured.
"Y'oughter seen him, Abe. He weighed ten pounds," Morris continued. "I bet yer he could holler, too,—like an auctioneer already. Minnie says also I shouldn't forget to tell you what we agreed upon."
"What we agreed upon?" Abe repeated. "Why we ain't agreed upon nothing, so far what I hear, Mawruss. What d'ye mean—what we agreed upon?"
"Not you and me, Abe," Morris cried. "Her and
me. We agreed that if it was a boy we'd call him Abraham P. P. Perlmutter already."
He slapped Abe on the back and laughed uproariously, while Abe looked guilty and blushed a deep crimson.
"Abraham Potash Perlmutter," Morris reiterated. "That's one fine name, Sol."
It was now Sol's turn to take Morris' hand and he squeezed it hard.