Morris blushed, while Lina and M. Garfunkel both
made a critical examination of the garment's eccentric fit.
"Why, that's one of them forty-twenty-two's what I ordered a lot of this morning, Mawruss. Ain't it?"
Morris gazed ruefully at the plum-color gown and nodded.
"Then don't ship that order till you hear from me," M. Garfunkel said. "I guess I got to hustle right along."
"Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Garfunkel," Morris cried. "You ain't come in the store just to tell me that, have you?"
"Yes, I have," said Garfunkel, his eye still glued to Lina's bulging figure. "That's all what I come for. I'll write you this afternoon."
He slammed the door behind him and Morris turned to the unbuttoning of the half-smothered Lina.
"That'll be two dollars for you, Lina," he said, "and I guess it'll be about four hundred for us."
At seven the next morning, when Abe came down the street from the subway, a bareheaded girl sat on the short flight of steps leading to Potash & Perlmutter's store door. As Abe approached, the girl rose and nodded, whereat Abe scowled.