"Ain't shipped no goods but the 4022's," it read. "Have wired Lowenstein to return the 4022s. MORRIS."
"Fine! Fine!" Abe exclaimed. He tipped the boy a dime and was about to acquaint Hyman with
the good news, when another messenger boy entered and delivered a second telegram to Abe. It read as follows:
"Lowenstein wires he insists on delivery entire order complete, otherwise he will sue. What shall I wire him? MORRIS."
Abe seized his hat and dashed down the street to the telegraph office.
"Gimme a blank," he said to the operator, who handed him a whole padful. For the next twenty minutes Abe scribbled and tore up by turns until he finally evolved a satisfactory missive. This he handed to the operator, who read it with a broad grin and passed it back at once.
"Wot d'ye take me for?" he said. "A bum? Dere's ladies in de main office."
Abe glared at the operator and began again.
"Here," he said to the operator after another quarter of an hour of scribbling and tearing up, "send this."
It was in the following form: