Sam shook his head.
"No, Henry," he said, "I didn't get rid of 'em—I sold 'em; and, furthermore, Henry, I sold four hundred dollars' worth more just like 'em to Mr. Rosett, of the Rochelle Department Store, which you should send him right away a couple sample garments of them 1040's."
"What d'ye mean, 1040's?" Henry asked. "I ain't got no such lot number in my place."
"No, I know you ain't; but I mean our style 1040—that is to say, Gembitz Brothers' style 1040."
Henry blushed.
"I don't know what you are talking about at all," he said.
"No?" Sam retorted slyly. "Well, I'll describe it to you, Henry. It's what you would call a princess dress in tailor-made effects. The waist's got lapels of the same goods, with a little braid on to it, two plaits in the middle and one on each shoulder; yoke and collar of silk net; and——"
"You mean my style number 2018?" Henry asked.
"I don't mean nothing, Henry," Sam declared, "because you shouldn't throw me no bluffs, Henry. I seen one of them garments in your cutting room only yesterday, Henry, which, if it wasn't made up in my old factory, I would eat it, Henry—and Doctor Eichendorfer says I got to be careful with my diet at that."
Henry shrugged.