The Competitive Nephew

by Montague Glass

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SERPENTS' TEETH

  "All right, Max," cried Samuel Gembitz, senior member of S. Gembitz &Sons; "if you think you know more about it as I do, Max, go ahead andmake up that style in all them fancy shades. But listen to what I'mtelling you, Max: black, navy blue, brown, and smoke is plenty enough;and all them copenhoogens, wisterias, and tchampanyers we would getstuck with, just as sure as little apples."

  "That's what you think, pop," Max Gembitz replied.

  "Well, I got a right to think, ain't I?" Samuel Gembitz retorted.

  "Sure," Max said, "and so have I."

  "After me," Samuel corrected. "I think first and then you think, Max;and I think we wouldn't plunge so heavy on them 1040's. Make up a fewof 'em in blacks, navies, browns, and smokes, Max, and afterward wewould see about making up the others."

  He rose from his old-fashioned Windsor chair in the firm's privateoffice and put on his hat--a silk hat of a style long obsolete.

  "I am going to my lunch, Max," he said firmly, "and when I come back Iwill be here. Another thing, Max: you got an idee them 1040's is abrand-new style which is so original, understand me, we are bound tomake a big hit with it at seven-fifty apiece--ain't it?"

  Max nodded.

  "Well, good styles travels fast, Max," the old man said; "and you couldtake it from me, Max, in two weeks' time Henry Schrimm and all themother fellers would be falling over themselves to sell the self-samegarment at seven dollars."

  He seized a gold-mounted, ebony cane, the gift of Harmony Lodge, 100,I.O.M.A., and started for the stairway, but as he reached the door heturned suddenly.

  "Max," he shouted, "tell them boys to straighten up the sample racks.The place looks like a pigsty already."

  As the door closed behind his father Max aimed a kick at theold-fashioned walnut desk and the old-fashioned Windsor chair; andthen, lighting a cigarette, he walked hurriedly to the cutting room.

  "Lester," he said to his younger brother, who was poring over a book ofsample swatches, "what do you think now?"

  "Huh?" Lester grunted.

  "The old man says we shouldn't make up them 1040's in nothing butblack, navy, brown, and smoke!"

  Lester closed the book of sample swatches and sat down suddenly.

  "Wouldn't that make you sick?" he said in tones of profound disgust. "Itell you what it is, Max, if it wouldn't be that the old man can't runthe business forever, I'd quit right now. We've got a killing in sightand he Jonahs the whole thing."

  "I told you what it would be," Max said. "I seen Falkstatter inSarahcuse last week; and so sure as I'm standing here, Lester, I couldsold that feller a two-thousand dollar order if it wouldn't be for theold man's back-number ideas. Didn't have a single pastel shade in mytrunks!"

  "Where is he now?" Lester asked.

  "Gone to lunch," Max replied.

  Lester took up the sample swatches again and his eyes rested lovinglyon a delicate shade of pink.

  "I hope he chokes," he said; but even though at that very moment SamuelGembitz sat in Hammersmith's restaurant, his cheeks distended to thebursting point with _gefuellte Rinderbrust_, Lester's prayer wentunanswered. Indeed, Samuel Gembitz had the bolting capacity of aboa-constrictor, and, with the aid of a gulp of coffee, he could haveswallowed a grapefruit whole.

  "Ain't you scared that you would sometimes hurt your di-gestion, Mr.Gembitz?" asked Henry Schrimm, who sat at the next table.

  Now this was a sore point with Sam Gembitz, for during the past year hehad succumbed to more than a dozen bilious attacks as a result of hisvoracious appetite; and three of them were directly traceable to_gefuellte Rinderbrust_.

  "I ain't so delicate like some people, Henry," he said rather sharply."I don't got to consider every bit of meat which I am putting in mymouth. And even if I would, Henry, what is doctors for? If a fellerwould got to deny himself plain food, Henry, he might as well jump offa dock and _fertig_."

  Henry Schrimm was an active member of as many fraternal orders as thereare evenings in the week, and he possessed a ready sympathy that madehim invaluable as a chairman of a sick-visiting or funeral committee;for at seven P.M. Henry could bring himself to the verge of tears overthe bedside of a lodge brother, without unduly affecting his ability torelish a game of auction pinochle at half-past eight, sharp.

  "Jumping off a dock is all right, too, Mr. Gembitz," he commented, "butyou got your family to consider."

  "You shouldn't worry about my family, Henry," Gembitz retorted. "I amcarrying good insurance; and, furthermore, I got my business in suchshape that it would go on just the same supposing I should dieto-morrow."

  "_Gott soll hueten_, Mr. Gembitz," Henry added piously as the old mandisposed of a dishful of gravy through the capillary attraction of ahunk of spongy rye bread.

  "Yes, Henry," Gembitz continued, after he had licked his fingers andsubmitted his bicuspids to a process of vacuum cleaning, "I got mybusiness down to such a fine point which you could really say wassystematic."

  "That's a good thing, Mr. Gembitz," Henry said, "because, presuming forthe sake of argument, I am only saying you would be called away, Mr.Gembitz, them boys of yours would run it into the ground in no time."

  "What d'ye mean, run it into the ground?" Gembitz demanded indignantly."If you would got the gumption which my boys got it, Schrimm, youwouldn't be doing a business which the most you are making is a couplethousand a year."

  "Sure, I know," Henry replied. "If I would got Lester's gumption Iwould be sitting around the Harlem Winter Garden till all hours of themorning; and if I would got Sidney's gumption I would be playing Kellypool from two to four every afternoon. And as for Max, Mr. Gembitz, ifI would got his gumption I would make a present of it to my worstenemy. A boy which he is going on forty and couldn't do nothing withoutasking his popper's permission first, Mr. Gembitz, he could better dogeneral house-work for a living as sell goods."

  Gembitz rose from his table and struggled into his overcoat speechlesswith indignation. It was not until he had buttoned the very last buttonthat he was able to enunciate.

  "Listen here to me, Schrimm!" he said. "If Lester goes once in a whileon a restaurant in the evening, that's his business; and, anyhow, sofar what I could see, Schrimm, it don't interfere none with hisdesigning garments which you are stealing on us just as soon as we get'em on the market. Furthermore, Schrimm, if Sidney plays Kelly poolevery afternoon, you could bet your life he also sells him a big billof goods, also. You got to entertain a customer oncet in a while if youwant to sell him goods, Schrimm; and, anyhow, Schrimm, if it would beyou would be trying to sell goods to this here Kelly, you wouldn't gotsense enough to play pool with him. You would waste your time trying tolearn him auction pinochle."

  "But, Mr. Gembitz," Schrimm began, "when a feller plays Kelly pool----"

  "And as for Max," Gembitz interrupted, "if you would be so good a boyas Max is, Schrimm, might your father would be alive to-day yet."

  "What d'ye mean?" Schrimm cried. "My father died when I was two yearsold already."

  "Sure, I know," Gembitz concluded; "and one thing I am only sorry,Schrimm: your father was a decent, respectable man, Schrimm, but heought to got to die three years sooner. That's all."

  No sooner had Mr. Gembitz left Hammersmith's restaurant than the_gefuellte Rinderbrust_ commenced to assert itself; and by the timehe arrived at his place of business he was experiencing all thepreliminary symptoms of a severe bilious attack. Nevertheless, hepulled himself together and as he sat down at his desk he called loudlyfor Sidney.

  "He ain't in," Max said.

  "Oh, he ain't, ain't he?" Mr. Gembitz retorted. "Well, where is he?"

  "He went out with a feller from the New Idea Store, Bridgetown," Maxanswered, drawing on his imagination in the defence of his brother.

  "New Idea Store!" Gembitz repeated. "What's the feller's name?"

  Max shrugged.

  "I forgot his name," he answered.

  "Well, I ain't forgot his name," Gembitz continue
d. "His name is Kelly;and every afternoon Schrimm tells me Sidney is playing this here Kellypool."

  For a brief interval Max stared at his father; then he broke into anunrestrained laugh.

  "_Nu!_" Gembitz cried. "What's the joke?"

  "Why," Max explained, "you're all twisted. Kelly ain't a feller at all.Kelly pool's a game, like you would say straight pinochle and auctionpinochle--there's straight pool and Kelly pool."

  Gembitz drummed on his desk with his fingers.

  "Do you mean to told me there ain't no such person, which he is buyinggoods for a concern, called Kelly?" he demanded.

  Max nodded.

  "Then that loafer just fools away his time every afternoon," Gembitzsaid in choking tones; "and, after all I done for him, he----"

  "What's the matter, popper?" Max cried, for Gembitz's lips had suddenlygrown purple, and, even as Max reached forward to aid him, he lurchedfrom his chair on to the floor.

  Half an hour later Samuel Gembitz was undergoing the entirely novelexperience of riding uptown in a taxicab, accompanied by a youngphysician who had been procured from the medical department of aninsurance company across the street.

  "Say, lookyhere," Sam protested as they assisted him into the cab,"this ain't necessary at all!"

  "No, I know it isn't," the doctor agreed, in his best imitation of anold practitioner's jocular manner. He was, in fact, a very youngpractitioner and was genuinely alarmed at Samuel's condition, which heattributed to arteriosclerosis and not to _gefuellte Rinderbrust_. "But,just the same," he concluded, "it is just as well to keep as quiet aspossible for the present."

  Sam nodded and lay back wearily in the leather seat of the taxicabwhile it threaded its way through the traffic of lower Fifth Avenue.Only once did he appear to take an interest in his surroundings, andthat was when the taxicab halted at the end of a long line of trafficopposite the debris of a new building.

  "What's going on here?" he asked faintly.

  "It's pretty nearly finished," the doctor replied. "Weldon, Jones &Company, of Minneapolis, are going to open a New York store."

  Sam nodded again and once more closed his eyes. He grew moreuncomfortable as the end of the journey approached, for he dreaded thereception that awaited him. Max had telephoned the news of his father'sillness to his sister, Miss Babette Gembitz, Sam's only daughter, whoupon her mother's death had assumed not only the duties but the mannerand bearing of that tyrannical person; and Sam knew she would make asearching investigation of the cause of his ailment.

  "Doctor, what do you think is the matter with me?" he asked, by way ofa feeler.

  "At your age, it's impossible to say," the doctor replied; "but nothingvery serious."

  "No?" Sam said. "Well, you don't think it's indigestion, do you?"

  "Decidedly not," the doctor said.

  "Well, then, you shouldn't forget and tell my daughter that," Samdeclared as the cab stopped opposite his house, "otherwise she willswear I am eating something which disagrees with me."

  He clambered feebly to the sidewalk, where stood Miss Babette Gembitzwith Dr. Sigmund Eichendorfer.

  "_Wie gehts_, Mr. Gembitz?" Doctor Eichendorfer cried cheerfully as hetook Sam's arm.

  "_Unpaesslich_, Doctor," Sam replied. "I guess I'm a pretty sick man."

  He glanced at his daughter for some trace of tears, but she met hisgaze unmoved.

  "You've been making a hog of yourself again, popper!" she saidseverely.

  "_Oser!_" Sam protested. "Crackers and milk I am eating for my lunch.The doctor could tell you the same."

  Ten minutes afterward Sam was tucked up in his bed, while in anadjoining room the young physician communicated his diagnosis to DoctorEichendorfer.

  "Arteriosclerosis, I should say," he murmured, and Doctor Eichendorfersniffed audibly.

  "You mean Bright's Disease--ain't it?" he said. "That feller's arteriesis as sound as plumbing."

  Doctor Eichendorfer had received his medical training in Vienna and heconsidered it to be a solemn duty never to agree with the diagnosis ofa native M.D.

  "I thought of Bright's Disease," the young physician replied, speakinga little less than the naked truth; for in diagnosing Sam's ailment hehad thought of nearly every disease he could remember.

  "Well, you could take it from me, Doctor," Eichendorfer concluded,"when one of these old-timers goes under there's a history of a rich,unbalanced diet behind it; and Bright's Disease it is. Also, youshouldn't forget to send in your bill--not a cent less than tendollars."

  He shook his confrere warmly by the hand; and three hours later themelancholy circumstance of Sam's Bright's Disease was known to everymember of the cloak and suit trade, with one exception--to wit, as thelawyers say, Sam himself. He knew that he had had _gefuellte Rinderbrust_,but by seven o'clock this knowledge became only a torment as the savouryodour of the family dinner ascended to his bedroom.

  "Babette," he called faintly, as becomes a convalescent, "ain't I goingto have no dinner at all to-night?"

  For answer Babette brought in a covered tray, on which were arrangedtwo pieces of dry toast and a glass of buttermilk.

  "What's this?" Sam cried.

  "That's your dinner," Babette replied, "and you should thank Gawd youare able to eat it."

  "You don't got to told me who I should thank for such slops which youare bringing me," he said, with every trace of convalescence gone fromhis tones. "Take that damn thing away and give me something to eat.Ain't that _gedaempftes Kalbfleisch_ I smell?"

  Babette made no reply, but gazed sadly at her father as she placed thetray on a chair beside his bed.

  "You don't know yourself how sick you are," she said. "Doctor Eichendorfersays you should be very quiet."

  This admonition produced no effect on Sam, who immediately started onan abusive criticism of physicians in general and Dr. SigmundEichendorfer in particular.

  "What does that _dummer Esel_ know?" he demanded. "I bet yer that theleast he tells you is I got Bright's Disease!"

  Babette shook her head slowly.

  "So you know it yourself all the time," she commented bitterly; "andyet you want to eat _gedaempftes Kalbfleisch_, when you know as well asI do it would pretty near kill you."

  "Kill me!" Sam shouted. "What d'ye mean, kill me? I eat some _Rinderbrust_for my lunch yet; and that's all what ails me. I ain't got no more Bright'sDisease as you got it."

  "If you think that lying is going to help you, you're mistaken,"Babette replied calmly. "To a man in your condition _gedaempftesKalbfleisch_ is poison."

  "I ain't lying to you," Sam insisted. "I am eating too much lunch, I amtelling you."

  "And you're not going to eat too much dinner!" Babette said as shetiptoed from the room.

  Thus Sam drank a glass of buttermilk and ate some dry toast for hissupper; and, in consequence, he slept so soundly that he did not wakenuntil Dr. Sigmund Eichendorfer entered his room at eight o'clock thefollowing morning. Under the bullying frown of his daughter Samsubmitted to a physical examination that lasted for more than an hour;and when Doctor Eichendorfer departed he left behind him four varietiesof tablets and a general interdiction against eating solid food,getting up, going downtown, or any of the other dozen things that Saminsisted upon doing.

  It was only under the combined persuasion of Max, Babette, and Lesterthat he consented to stay in bed that forenoon; and when lunchtimearrived he was so weakened by a twenty-four-hour fast and DoctorEichendorfer's tablets, that he was glad to remain undisturbed for theremainder of the day.

  At length, after one bedridden week, accompanied by a liquid diet andmore tablets, Sam was allowed to sit up in a chair and to partake of aslice of chicken.

  "Well, popper, how do you feel to-day?" asked Max, who had just arrivedfrom the office.

  "I feel pretty sick, Max," Sam replied; "but I guess I could getdowntown to-morrow, all right."

  Babette sat nearby and nodded her head slowly.

  "Guess some more, popper," she said. "Before you would go downto
wn yet,you are going to Lakewood."

  "Lakewood!" Sam exclaimed. "What d'ye mean, Lakewood? If you want to goto Lakewood, go ahead. I am going downtown to-morrow. What, d'ye thinka business could run itself?"

  "So far as business is concerned," Max said, "you shouldn't troubleyourself at all. We are hustling like crazy downtown and we alreadysold over three thousand dollars' worth of them 1040's."

  Sam sat up suddenly.

  "I see my finish," he said, "with you boys selling goods left and rightto a lot of fakers like the New Idea Store."

  "New Idea Store nothing!" Max retorted. "We are selling over twothousand dollars to Falkstatter, Fein & Company--and I guess they'refakers--what!"

  Sam leaned back in his chair.

  "Falkstatter, Fein & Company is all right," he admitted.

  "And, furthermore," Max continued, "we sold 'em fancy colours likewistaria, copenhagen, and champagne; and them navy blues and brownsthey wouldn't touch."

  "No?" Sam said weakly.

  "So you see, popper, if you would been downtown we wouldn't got thatorder at all," Max continued. "So what's the use worrying yourself?"

  "He's right, popper," Babette added. "You're getting too old to begoing downtown every day. The boys could look after the business. It'stime you took a rest."

  At this juncture Doctor Eichendorfer entered.

  "Hello!" he said. "What are you doing sitting up here? You must getright back to bed."

  "What are you talking nonsense?" Sam cried. "I am feeling pretty goodalready."

  "You look it," Eichendorfer said. "If you could see the way you are rundown this last week yet you wouldn't talk so fresh."

  He seized Sam by the arm as he spoke and lifted him out of the chair.

  "You ain't so heavy like you used to be, Mr. Gembitz," he went on as hehelped Sam to his bed. "Another week and you could sit up, but notbefore."

  Sam groaned as they tucked the covers around him.

  "Now you see how weak you are," Eichendorfer cried triumphantly. "Don'tget up again unless I would tell you first."

  After leaving some more tablets, Doctor Eichendorfer took his leave;and half an hour later Sam knew by the tantalizing odours that pervadedhis bedroom that the family dined on stewed chicken with _KartoffelKloesse_. For the remainder of the evening Sam lay with his eyes closed;and whenever Babette approached his bedside with a tumbler of water andthe box of tablets he snored ostentatiously. Thus he managed to evadethe appetite-dispelling medicine until nearly midnight, when Babettecoughed loudly.

  "Popper," she said, "I'm going to bed and I want you to take yourtablets."

  "Leave 'em on the chair here," he replied, "and I'll take 'em in a fewminutes."

  He watched her place the tablets on the chair; and as soon as her backwas turned he seized them eagerly and thrust them into the pocket ofhis night-shirt.

  "Where's the water?" he mumbled; and when Babette handed him thetumbler he gulped down the water with noise sufficient to account for aboxful of tablets.

  "Now, leave me alone," he said; and Babette kissed him coldly on theleft ear.

  "I hope you'll feel better in the morning," she said dutifully.

  "Don't worry," Sam said. "I'm going to."

  He listened carefully until he heard the door close and then he threwback the coverlet. Very gingerly he slid to the carpet and plantedhimself squarely on his feet. A sharp attack of "pins and needles"prevented any further movement for some minutes; but at length itsubsided and he began to search for his slippers. His bathrobe hung onthe back of the door, and, after he had struggled into it, he openedthe door stealthily and, clinging to the balustrade, crept downstairsto the basement.

  He negotiated the opening of the ice-box door with the skill of anexperienced burglar; and immediately thereafter he sat down at thekitchen table in front of a dishful of stewed chicken, four cold boiledpotatoes, the heel of a rye loaf, and a bottle of beer. Twenty minuteslater he laid away the empty dish on top of the kitchen sink, with theempty beer bottle beneath it; then, after supplying himself with a boxof matches, he crept upstairs to his room.

  When Babette opened the door the following morning she raised her chinand sniffed suspiciously.

  "Ain't it funny?" she murmured, "I could almost swear I smell stalecigar smoke here."

  Sam turned his face to the wall.

  "You're crazy!" he said.

  During the ensuing week Sam Gembitz became an adept in the art oflegerdemain; and the skill with which he palmed tablets under the verynose of his daughter was only equalled by the ingenuity he displayed infinally disposing of them. At least three dozen disappeared through acrack in the wainscoting behind Sam's bed, while as many more werepoked through a hole in the mattress; and thus Sam became graduallystronger, until Doctor Eichendorfer himself could not ignore theimprovement in his patient's condition.

  "All right; you can sit up," he said to Sam; "but, remember, the leastindiscretion and back to bed you go."

  Sam nodded, for Babette was in the room at the time; and, albeit Samhad gained new courage through his nightly raids on the ice-box, helacked the boldness that three square meals a day engender.

  "I would take good care of myself, Doctor," he said, "and the day afterto-morrow might I could go downtown, maybe?"

  "The day after to-morrow!" Doctor Eichendorfer exclaimed. "Why, youwouldn't be downtown for a month yet."

  "The idea!" Babette cried indignantly. "As if the boys couldn't lookafter the place without you! What d'ye want to go downtown for at all?"

  "What d'ye mean, what do I want to go downtown for at all?" Samdemanded sharply, and Miss Babette Gembitz blushed; whereupon Sam rosefrom his chair and stood unsteadily on his feet.

  "You are up to some monkey business here--all of you!" he declared."What is it about?"

  Babette exchanged glances with Doctor Eichendorfer, who shrugged hisshoulders in reply.

  "Well, if you want to know what it is, popper," she said, "I'll tellyou. You're a very sick man and the chances are you'll never godowntown again." Doctor Eichendorfer nodded his approval and Sam satdown again.

  "So we may as well tell you right out plain," Babette continued; "theboys have given out to the trade that you've retired on account ofsickness--and here it is in the paper and all."

  She handed Sam a copy of the _Daily Cloak and Suit Record_ andindicated with her finger an item headed "Personals." It read asfollows:

  NEW YORK.--Samuel Gembitz, of S. Gembitz & Sons, whose serious illness was reported recently, has retired from the firm, and the business will be carried on by Max Gembitz, Lester Gembitz, and Sidney Gembitz, under the firm style of Gembitz Brothers.

  As Sam gazed at the item the effect of one week's surreptitious feedingwas set at naught, and once more Babette and Doctor Eichendorferassisted him to his bed. That night he had neither the strength nor theinclination to make his accustomed raid on the ice-box, nor could heresist the administration of Doctor Eichendorfer's tablets; so that thefollowing day found him weaker than ever. It was not until another weekhad elapsed that his appetite began to assert itself; but when it didhe convalesced rapidly. Indeed, at the end of the month, DoctorEichendorfer permitted him to take short walks with Babette. Graduallythe length of these promenades increased until Babette found her entireforenoons monopolized by her father.

  "Ain't it awful!" she said to Sam one Sunday morning as they pacedslowly along Lenox Avenue. "I am so tied down."

  "You ain't tied down," Sam replied ungraciously. "For my part, I wouldas lief hang around this here place by myself."

  "It's all very well for you to talk," Babette rejoined; "but you knowvery well that in your condition you could drop in the street at anytime yet."

  "_Schmooes!_" Sam cried. "I am walking by myself for sixty-five yearsyet and I guess I could continue to do it."

  "But Doctor Eichendorfer says----" Babette began.

  "What do I care what Doctor Eichendorfer says!" Sam interrupted. "And,furthermore, supposing I would d
rop in the street--which anybody couldslip oncet in a while on a banana peel, understand me--ain't I gotcards in my pocket?"

  Babette remained silent for a moment, whereat Sam plucked up newcourage.

  "Why should you bother yourself to _schlepp_ me along like this?" hesaid. "There's lots of people I could go out with. Ain't it? Take oldman Herz _oder_ Mrs. Krakauer--they would be glad to go out walkingwith me; and oncet in a while I could go and call on Mrs. Schrimmmaybe."

  "Mrs. Schrimm!" Babette exclaimed. "I'm surprised to hear you talk thatway. Mrs. Schrimm for years goes around telling everybody that mommer_selig_ leads you a dawg's life."

  "Everybody's got a right to their opinion, Babette," Sam said; "but,anyhow, that ain't here nor there. If you wouldn't want me to go aroundand see Mrs. Schrimm I wouldn't."

  Babette snorted.

  "In the first place," she said, "you couldn't go unless I go with you;and, in the second place, you couldn't get me to go there for a hundreddollars."

  Beyond suggesting that a hundred dollars was a lot of money, Sam madeno further attempt to secure his liberty that morning; but on thefollowing day he discreetly called his daughter's attention to afull-page advertisement in the morning paper.

  "Ain't you was telling me the other evening you need to got some tablenapkins, Babette?" he asked.

  Babette nodded.

  "Well, here it is in the paper that new concern, Weldon, Jones &Company, is selling to-day napkins at three dollars a dozen--the bestdamask napkins," he concluded.

  Babette seized the paper and five minutes later she was poking hatpinsinto her scalp with an energy that made Sam's eyes water.

  "Where are you going, Babette?" he said.

  "I'm going downtown to that sale of linens," she said, "and I'll beback to take you out at one o'clock."

  "Don't hurry on my account," Sam said. "I've got enough here in thepaper to keep me busy until to-night yet."

  Five minutes later the basement door banged and Sam jumped to his feet.With the agility of a man half his age he ran upstairs to the parlourfloor and put on his hat and coat; and by the time Babette had turnedthe corner of Lenox Avenue Sam walked out of the areaway of hisold-fashioned, three-story-and-basement, high-stoop residence on OneHundred and Eighteenth Street en route for Mrs. Schrimm's equallyold-fashioned residence on One Hundred and Twenty-seventh Street. Therehe descended the area steps; and finding the door ajar he walked intothe basement dining-room.

  "_Wie gehts_, Mrs. Schrimm!" he cried cheerfully.

  "Oo-ee! What a _Schreck_ you are giving me!" Mrs. Schrimm exclaimed."This is Sam Gembitz, ain't it?"

  "Sure it is," Sam replied. "Ain't you afraid somebody is going to comein and steal something on you?"

  "That's that girl again!" Mrs. Schrimm said as she bustled out to theareaway and slammed the door. "That's one of them _Ungarischer_ girls,Mr. Gembitz, which all they could do is to eat up your whole ice-boxempty and go out dancing on _Bauern_ balls till all hours of themorning. Housework is something they don't know nothing about at all.Well, Mr. Gembitz, I am hearing such tales about you--you are dying,and so on."

  "_Warum_ Mister Gembitz?" Sam said. "Ain't you always called me Sam,Henrietta?"

  Mrs. Schrimm blushed. In the lifetime of the late Mrs. Gembitz she hadbeen a constant visitor at the Gembitz house, but under Babette'schilling influence the friendship had withered until it was only amemory.

  "Why not?" she said. "I certainly know you long enough, Sam."

  "Going on thirty-five years, Henrietta," Sam said, "when you and me andRegina come over here together. Things is very different nowadays,Henrietta. Me, I am an old man already."

  "What do you mean old?" Mrs. Schrimm cried. "When my _Grossvater selig_was sixty-eight he gets married for the third time yet."

  "Them old-timers was a different proposition entirely, Henrietta," Samsaid. "If I would be talking about getting married, Henrietta, theleast that happens to me is my children would put me in a lunaticasylum yet."

  "Yow!" Mrs. Schrimm murmured skeptically.

  "Wouldn't they?" Sam continued. "Well, you could just bet your lifethey would. Why, I am sick only a couple weeks or so, Henrietta, andwhat do them boys do? They practically throw me out of my business yetand tell me I am retired."

  "And you let 'em?" Mrs. Schrimm asked.

  "What could I do?" Sam said. "I'm a sick man, Henrietta. DoctorEichendorfer says I wouldn't live a year yet."

  "Doctor Eichendorfer says that!" Mrs. Schrimm rejoined. "And do youtold me that you are taking Doctor Eichendorfer's word for it?"

  "Doctor Eichendorfer is a _Rosher_, I admit," Sam answered; "but he's apretty good doctor, Henrietta."

  "For the _gesund_, yes," Mrs. Schrimm admitted. "But if my cat would besick, Sam, and Doctor Eichendorfer charges two cents a call yet, Iwouldn't have him in my house at all. I got too much respect for mycat, Sam. With that feller, as soon as he comes into the bedroom hesays the patient is dying; because if the poor feller does die,understand me, then Eichendorfer is a good prophet, and if he getsbetter then Eichendorfer is a good doctor. He always fixes it so hegets the credit both ways. But you got to acknowledge one thing aboutthat feller, Sam--he knows how to charge, Sam; and he's a goodcollector. Everybody says so."

  Sam nodded sadly.

  "I give you right about that," he said.

  "And, furthermore," Mrs. Schrimm began, "he----"

  Mrs. Schrimm proceeded no further, however, for the sound of a saucepanboiling over brought her suddenly to her feet and she dashed into thekitchen.

  Two minutes later a delicate, familiar odour assailed Sam's nostrils,and when Mrs. Schrimm returned she found him unconsciously licking hislips.

  "Yes, Sam," she declared, "them _Ungarischer_ girls is worser as nobodyin the kitchen. Pretty near ruins my whole lunch, and I got Mrs.Krakauer coming, too. You know what a talker that woman is; and if Iwould give her something which it is a little burned, y'understand, thewhole of New York hears about it."

  "Well, Henrietta," Sam said as he rose and seized his hat, "I must begoing."

  "Going!" Mrs. Schrimm cried. "Why, you're only just coming. Andbesides, Sam, you are going to stop to lunch, too."

  "Lunch!" Sam exclaimed. "Why, I don't eat lunch no more, Henrietta. Allthe doctor allows me is crackers and milk."

  "Do you mean Doctor Eichendorfer allows you that?" Mrs. Schrimm asked,and Sam nodded.

  "Then all I could say is," she continued, "that you are going to stayto lunch, because if Doctor Eichendorfer allows a man only crackers andmilk, Sam, that's a sign he could eat _Wienerwurst_, dill pickles, and_Handkaese_. _Aber_ if Doctor Eichendorfer says you could eat steaks andchops, stick to boiled eggs and milk--because steaks would kill yousure."

  "But Babette would be back at one o'clock and if I didn't get homebefore then she would take my head off for me."

  Mrs. Schrimm nodded sympathetically.

  "So you wouldn't stay for lunch?" she said.

  "I couldn't," Sam protested.

  "Very well, then," Mrs. Schrimm cried as she hurried to the kitchen."Sit right down again, Sam; I would be right back."

  When Mrs. Schrimm appeared a few minutes later she bore a cloth-coveredtray which she placed on the table in front of Sam.

  "You got until half-past twelve--ain't it?" she said; "so take yourtime, Sam. You should chew your food good, especially something whichit is already half chopped, like _gefuellte Rinderbrust_."

  "_Gefuellte Rinderbrust!_" Sam cried. "Why"--he poked at it with hisknife--"Why, this always makes me sick." He balanced a good mouthful onhis fork. "But, anyhow----" he concluded, and the rest of the sentencewas an incoherent mumbling as he fell to ravenously. Moreover, hefinished the succulent dish, gravy and all, and washed down the wholewith a cup of coffee--not Hammersmith's coffee or the dark brown fluid,with a flavour of stale tobacco pipe, that Miss Babette Gembitz hadcome to persuade herself was coffee, but a fragrant decoction, softenedby rich, sweet cream and containing all the delicious fragra
nce of thebest thirty-five-cent coffee, fresh-ground from the grocer's.

  "_Ja_, Henrietta," Sam cried as he rose to leave; "I am going toweddings and fashionable hotels, and I am eating with high-gradecustomers in restaurants which you would naturally take a high-gradecustomer to, understand me; but--would you believe me, Henrietta!--I amyet got to taste such coffee _oder_ such _gefuellte Rinderbrust_ as youare giving me now."

  Mrs. Schrimm beamed her acknowledgment of the compliment.

  "To-morrow you would get some chicken fricassee, Sam," she said, "ifyou would get here at half-past eleven sharp."

  Sam shook her hand fervently.

  "Believe me, I would try my best," he said; and fifteen minutes later,when Babette entered the Gembitz residence on One Hundred andEighteenth Street, she found Sam as she had left him--fairly buried inthe financial page of the morning paper.

  "Well, Babette," Sam cried, "so you see I went out and I took my walkand I come back and nothing happened to me. Ain't it?"

  Babette nodded.

  "I'll get you your lunch right away," she said; and without removingher hat and jacket, she brought him a glass of buttermilk and six plaincrackers. Sam watched her until she had ascended the stairs to thefirst floor; then he stole on tiptoe to the sink in the butler's pantryand emptied the buttermilk down the wastepipe. A moment later he openedthe door of a bookcase that stood near the mantelpiece and depositedfive of the crackers behind six full-morocco volumes entitled "Prayersfor Festivals and Holy Days." He was busily engaged in eating theremaining cracker when Babette returned; and all that afternoon heseemed so contented and even jovial that Babette determined to permithim his solitary walk on the following day.

  Thus Sam not only ate the chicken fricassee but three days afterward,when he visited Mrs. Schrimm upon the representation to Babette that hewould sit all the morning in Mt. Morris Park, he suggested to Henriettathat he show some return for her hospitality by taking her to luncheonat a fashionable hotel downtown.

  "My restaurant days is over," Mrs. Schrimm declared.

  "To oblige me," Sam pleaded. "I ain't been downtown in--excuse me--sucha helluva long time I don't know what it's like at all."

  "If you are so anxious to get downtown, Sam," Mrs. Schrimm rejoined,"why don't you go down and get lunch with Henry? He'd be glad to haveyou."

  "What, alone?" Sam cried. "Why, if Babette would hear of it----"

  "Who's going to tell her?" Mrs. Schrimm asked, and Sam seized his hatwith trembling fingers.

  "By jimminy, I would do it!" he said, and then he paused irresolutely."But how could I get home in time if I did?"

  A moment later he snapped his fingers.

  "I got an idee!" he exclaimed. "You are such good friends with Mrs.Krakauer--ain't it?"

  Mrs. Schrimm nodded.

  "Then you should do me the favour, Henrietta, and go over to Mrs.Krakauer and tell her she should ring up Babette and tell her I am overat her house and I wouldn't be back till three o'clock."

  "Couldn't you go downtown if you want to?" Mrs. Schrimm replied. "Mustyou got to ask Babette's permission first?"

  Sam nodded slowly.

  "You don't know that girl, Henrietta," he said bitterly. "She is Regina_selig_ over again--only worser, Henrietta."

  "All right. I would do as you want," Mrs. Schrimm declared.

  "Only one thing I must got to tell you," Sam said as he made for thedoor: "don't let Mrs. Krakauer talk too much, Henrietta, because thatgirl is suspicious like a credit man. She don't believe nothing nobodytells her."

  * * * * *

  When Sam entered the showroom of Henry Schrimm's place of business,half an hour later, Henry hastened to greet him. "_Wie gehts_, Mr.Gembitz?" he cried.

  He drew forward a chair and Sam sank into it as feebly as he consideredappropriate to the role of a convalescent.

  "I'm a pretty sick man, Henry," he said, "and I feel I ain't long forthis world."

  He allowed his head to loll over his left shoulder in an attitude ofextreme fatigue; in doing so, however, his eye rested for a moment upona shipping clerk who was arranging Henry's sample garments on someold-fashioned racks.

  "Say, lookyhere, Henry," Sam exclaimed, raising his head suddenly, "howthe devil could you let a feller like that ruin your whole sampleline?"

  He jumped from his chair and strode across the showroom.

  "_Schlemiel!_" he cried. "What for you are wrinkling them garments likethat?"

  He seized a costume from the astonished shipping clerk and for half anhour he arranged and rearranged Henry's samples until the job wasfinished to his satisfaction.

  "Mr. Gembitz," Henry protested, "sit down for a minute. You would makeyourself worse."

  "What d'ye mean, make myself worse?" Sam demanded. "I am just as muchable to do this as you are, Henry. Where do you keep your piece goods,Henry?"

  Henry led the way to the cutting room and Sam Gembitz inspected a dozenbolts of cloth that were piled in a heap against the wall.

  "That's just what I thought, Henry," Sam cried. "You let them fellerskeep the place here like a pig-sty."

  "Them's only a lot of stickers, Mr. Gembitz," Henry explained.

  "Stickers!" Sam repeated. "What d'ye mean stickers? That's the samemistake a whole lot of people makes. There ain't no such thing asstickers, Henry. Sometimes you get ahold of some piece goods which isout of demand for the time being, Henry; but sooner or later thefashions would change, Henry, and then the stickers ain't stickers nomore. They're live propositions again."

  Henry made no reply and Sam continued:

  "Yes, Henry," he went on, "some people is always willing they shouldthrow out back numbers which really ain't back numbers at all. Takethem boys of mine, for instance, Henry, and see how glad they was toget rid of me on account they think I am a back number; but I ain't,Henry. And just to show you I ain't, Henry, do you happen to have onhand some made-up garments which you think is stickers?"

  Henry nodded.

  "Well, if I don't come downtown to-morrow morning and with all themthere stickers sold for you," Sam cried, "my name ain't Sam Gembitz atall."

  "Say, lookyhere, Mr. Gembitz," Henry protested, "you would makeyourself sick again. Come out and have a bite of lunch with me."

  "That's all right, Henry," Sam replied. "I ain't hungry for lunch--I amhungry for work; and if you would be so good and show me them stickerswhich you got made up, Henry, I could assort 'em in lots, and to-morrowmorning I would take a look-in on some of them upper Third Avenuestores, Henry. And if I don't get rid of 'em for you, understand me,you could got right uptown and tell Babette. Otherwise you should keepyour mouth shut and you and me does a whole lot of business together."

  Half an hour later Sam carefully effaced the evidences of his toil withsoap and water and a whisk-broom, and began his journey uptown. Underone arm he carried a bundle of sample garments that might have taxedthe strength of a much younger man.

  This bundle he deposited for safekeeping with the proprietor of a cigarstore on Lenox Avenue; and, after a final brush-down by the bootblackon the corner, he made straight for his residence on One Hundred andEighteenth Street. When he entered he found Babette impatientlyawaiting him.

  "Why didn't you stay all night, popper?" she demanded indignantly."Here I am all dressed and waiting to go downtown--and you keep mestanding around like this."

  "Another time you shouldn't wait at all," Sam retorted. "If you want togo downtown, go ahead. I could always ask the girl for something if Ishould happen to need it."

  He watched Babette leave the house with a sigh of relief, and for theremainder of the afternoon he made intricate calculations with the stubof a lead pencil on the backs of old envelopes. Ten minutes beforeBabette returned he thrust the envelopes into his pocket and smiledwith satisfaction, for he had computed to a nicety just how low a pricehe could quote on Henry Schrimm's stickers, so as to leave a margin ofprofit for Henry after his own commissions were paid.

  T
he following morning Sam arrayed himself with more than ordinary care,and promptly at ten o'clock he seized his cane and started for thedoor.

  "Where are you going?" Babette demanded.

  "I guess I would take a little walk in the park," he said to hisdaughter in tremulous tones, and Babette eyed him somewhatsuspiciously.

  "Furthermore," he said boldly, "if you want to come with me you coulddo so. The way you are looking so yellow lately, Babette, a little walkin the park wouldn't do you no harm."

  Sam well knew that his daughter was addicted to the practice of facialmassage, and he felt sure that any reference to yellowness would driveBabette to her dressing-table and keep her safely engaged with mirrorand cold cream until past noon.

  "Don't stay out long," she said, and Sam nodded.

  "I would be back when I am hungry," he replied; "and maybe I would takea look in at Mrs. Krakauer. If you get anxious about me telephone her."

  Ten minutes later he called at the cigar store on Lenox Avenue andsecured his samples, after which he rang up Mrs. Schrimm.

  "Hello, Henrietta!" he shouted, "This is Sam--yes, Sam Gembitz. What isthe matter? Nothing is the matter. Huh? Sure, I feel all right. I giveyou a scare? Why should I give you a scare, Henrietta? Sure, we are oldfriends; but that ain't the point, Henrietta. I want to ask you youshould do me something as a favour. You should please be so good andring up Mrs. Krakauer, which you should tell her, if Babette rings herup and asks for me any time between now and six o'clock to-night, sheshould say I was there, but I just left. Did you get that straight? Allright. Good-bye."

  He heaved a sigh of relief as he paid for the telephone call andpocketed a handful of cheap cigars.

  "Don't you want a boy to help you carry them samples, Mr. Gembitz?" theproprietor asked.

  "Do I look like I wanted a boy to help me carry samples?" Sam retortedindignantly, and a moment later he swung aboard an eastbound crosstowncar.

  It was past noon when Sam entered Henry Schrimm's showroom and his facebore a broad, triumphant grin.

  "Well, Henry," he shouted, "what did I told you? To a feller which heis knowing how to sell goods there ain't no such things as stickers."

  "Did you get rid of 'em?" Henry asked.

  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 shouldsend 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 numberin 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'swhat you would call a princess dress in tailor-made effects. Thewaist's got lapels of the same goods, with a little braid on to it, twoplaits in the middle and one on each shoulder; yoke and collar of silknet; and----"

  "You mean my style number 2018?" Henry asked.

  "I don't mean nothing, Henry," Sam declared, "because you shouldn'tthrow me no bluffs, Henry. I seen one of them garments in your cuttingroom only yesterday, Henry, which, if it wasn't made up in my oldfactory, I would eat it, Henry--and Doctor Eichendorfer says I got tobe careful with my diet at that."

  Henry shrugged.

  "Well," he began, "there ain't no harm if----"

  "Sure, there ain't no harm, Henry," Sam said, "because them garments isgoing like hot cakes. A big concern like Falkstatter, Fein & Companytakes over three thousand dollars' worth from the boys for their storesin Sarahcuse, Rochester, and Buffalo."

  "Falkstatter, Fein & Company!" Henry cried. "Does them boys of yourssell Falkstatter, Fein & Company?"

  "Sure," Sam answered. "Why not?"

  "Why not?" Henry repeated. "Ain't you heard?"

  "I ain't heard nothing," Sam replied; "but I know that concern fortwenty years since already, Henry, and they always pay prompt to theday."

  "Sure, I know," Henry said; "but only this morning I seen Sol Klingerin the subway and Sol tells me Simon Falkstatter committed suicide lastnight."

  "Committed suicide!" Sam gasped. "What for?"

  "I don't know what for," Henry replied; "but nobody commits suicide forpleasure, Mr. Gembitz, and if a man is in business, like Falkstatter,when Marshall Field's was new beginners already, Mr. Gembitz, and hesees he is got to bust up, Mr. Gembitz, what should he do?"

  Sam rose to his feet and seized his hat and cane.

  "Going home so soon, Mr. Gembitz?" Henry asked.

  "No, I ain't going home, Henry," Sam replied. "I'm going over to see myboys. I guess they need me."

  He started for the door, but as he reached it he paused.

  "By the way, Henry," he said, "on my way down I stopped in to see thatnew concern there on Fifth Avenue--Weldon, Jones & Company--and youshould send 'em up also a couple of them princess dresses in brown andsmoke. I'll see you to-morrow."

  "Do you think you could get down again to-morrow?" Henry asked.

  "I don't know, Henry; but if lies could get me here I guess I could,"Sam replied. "Because, the way my children fixes me lately, I ambeginning to be such a liar that you could really say I am an expert."

  * * * * *

  Ten minutes later Sam Gembitz walked into the elevator of his lateplace of business and smiled affably at the elevator boy, who returnedhis greeting with a perfunctory nod.

  "Well, what's new around here, Louis?" Sam asked.

  "I dunno, Mr. Gembitz," the elevator boy said. "I am only just comingback from my lunch."

  "I mean what happens since I am going away, Louis?" Sam continued.

  "I didn't know you went away at all, Mr. Gembitz," the elevator boyreplied.

  "_Dummer Esel!_" Sam exclaimed. "Don't you know I was sick and I amgoing away from here _schon_ three months ago pretty near?"

  The elevator boy stopped the car at Gembitz Brothers' floor and spatdeliberately.

  "In the building is twenty tenants, Mr. Gembitz," he said, "and the waythem fellers is sitting up all hours of the night, shikkering andgambling, if I would keep track which of 'em is sick and which ain'tsick, Mr. Gembitz, I wouldn't got no time to run the elevator at all."

  If the elevator boy's indifference made Sam waver in the belief that hewas sorely missed downtown the appearance of his late showroomconvinced him of his mistake. The yellow-pine fixtures had disappeared,and in place of his old walnut table there had been installed threerolltop desks of the latest Wall Street design.

  At the largest of these sat Max, who wheeled about suddenly as hisfather entered.

  "What are you doing down here?" he demanded savagely.

  "Ain't I got no right in my own business at all?" Sam asked mildly.

  "Sidney!" Max cried, and in response his youngest brother appeared.

  "Put on your hat and take the old man home," he said.

  "One minute, Sidney," Sam said. "In the first place, Max, before wetalk about going home, I want to ask you a question: How much doesFalkstatter, Fein & Company owe us?"

  "Us?" Max repeated.

  "Well--you?" Sam replied.

  "What's that your business?" Max retorted.

  "What is that my business?" Sam gasped. "A question! Did you ever hearthe like, Sidney? He asks me what it is my business supposingFalkstatter, Fein & Company owes us a whole lot of money! Ain't that afine way to talk, Sidney?"

  Sidney's pasty face coloured and he bit his lips nervously.

  "Max is right, popper," he said. "You ain't got no call to come downhere and interfere in our affairs. I'll put on my hat and go right homewith you."

  It was now Sam's turn to blush, and he did so to the point of growingpurple with rage.

  "Don't trouble yourself," he cried; "because I ain't going home!"

  "W
hat d'ye mean, y'ain't going home?" Max said threateningly.

  "I mean what I say!" Sam declared. "I mean I ain't going home neveragain. You are throwing me out of my business, Max, and you would soontry to throw me out of my home, too, if I couldn't protect myself. ButI ain't so old and I ain't so sick but what I could take care ofmyself, Max."

  "Why, Doctor Eichendorfer says----" Sidney began.

  "Doctor Eichendorfer!" Sam roared. "Who is Doctor Eichendorfer? He is adoctor, not a lawyer, Max, and maybe he knows about kidneys, Max; buthe don't know nothing about business, Max! And, so help me, Max, Iwould give you till Wednesday afternoon three o'clock; if you don'tsend me a certified check for five thousand dollars over to HenrySchrimm's place, I would go right down and see Henry D. Feldman, and Iwould bust your business--my business!--open from front to rear, sothat there wouldn't be a penny left for nobody--except Henry D.Feldman."

  Here he drew a deep breath.

  "And, furthermore, Max," he concluded, as he made for the door, "don'ttry any monkey business with spreading reports I am gone crazy oranything, because I know that's just what you would do, Max! And if youwould, Max, instead of five thousand dollars I would want ten thousanddollars. And if I wouldn't get it, Max, Henry D. Feldman would--so whatis the difference?"

  He paused with his hand on the elevator bell and faced his sons again.

  "Solomon was right, Max," he concluded. "He was an old-timer, Max; but,just the same, he knew what he was talking about when he said that youbring up a child in the way he should go and when he gets old he bitesyou like a serpent's tooth yet!"

  At this juncture the elevator door opened and Sam delivered hisultimatum.

  "But you got a different proposition here, boys," he said; "and beforeyou get through with me I would show you that oncet in a while a fathercould got a serpent's tooth, too--and don't you forget it!"

  "Mr. Gembitz," the elevator boy interrupted, "there is here in thebuilding already twenty tenants; and other people as yourself wants toride in the elevator, too, Mr. Gembitz."

  Thus admonished, Sam entered the car and a moment later he foundhimself on the sidewalk. Instinctively he walked toward the subwaystation, although he had intended to return to Henry Schrimm's office;but, before he again became conscious of his surroundings, he wasseated in a Lenox Avenue express with an early edition of the eveningpaper held upside down before him.

  "_Nah_, well," he said to himself, "what is the difference? I wouldn'ttry to do no more business to-day."

  He straightened up the paper and at once commenced to study thefinancial page. Unknown to his children, he had long rented asafe-deposit box, in which reposed ten first-mortgage bonds of atrunkline railroad, together with a few shares of stock purchased byhim during the Northern Pacific panic. He noted, with a satisfied grin,that the stock showed a profit of fifty points, while the bonds hadadvanced three eighths of a point.

  "Three eighths ain't much," he muttered as he sat still while the trainleft One Hundred and Sixteenth Street station, "but there is a wholelot of _rabonim_ which would marry you for less than thirty-sevendollars and fifty cents."

  He threw the paper to the floor as the train stopped at One Hundred andTwenty-fifth Street and, without a moment's hesitation, ascended to thestreet level and walked two blocks north to One Hundred andTwenty-seventh Street. There he rang the basement bell of anold-fashioned brown-stone residence and Mrs. Schrimm in person openedthe door. When she observed her visitor she shook her head slowly fromside to side and emitted inarticulate sounds through her nose,indicative of extreme commiseration.

  "Ain't you going to get the devil when Babette sees you!" she said atlast. "Mrs. Krakauer tells her six times over the 'phone already youjust went home."

  "Could I help it what that woman tells Babette?" Sam asked. "And,anyhow, Henrietta, what do I care what Mrs. Krakauer tells Babette orwhat Babette tells Mrs. Krakauer? And, furthermore, Henrietta, Babettecould never give me the devil no more!"

  "No?" Mrs. Schrimm said as she led the way to the dining-room. "You'retalking awful big, Sam, for a feller which he never calls his soul hisown in his own home yet."

  "Them times is past, Henrietta," Sam answered as he sat down andremoved his hat. "To-day things begin differently for me, Henrietta;because, Henrietta, you and me is old enough to know our own business,understand me--and if I would say 'black' you wouldn't say 'white.' Andif you would say 'black' I would say 'black'."

  Mrs. Schrimm looked hard at Sam and then she sat down on the sofa.

  "What d'ye mean, black?" she gasped.

  "I'm only talking in a manner of speaking, Henrietta," Sam explained."What I mean is this."

  He pulled an old envelope out of his pocket and explored his waistcoatfor a stump of lead pencil.

  "What I mean is," he continued, wetting the blunt point with histongue, "ten bonds from Canadian Western, first mortgage from gold,_mit_ a _garantirt_ from the Michigan Midland Railroad, ten thousanddollars, interest at 6 per cent.--is six hundred dollars a year, ain'tit?"

  "Ye-ee-s," Mrs. Schrimm said hesitatingly. "_Und?_"

  "_Und_," Sam said triumphantly, "fifty shares from Central Pacific at154 apiece is seventy-seven hundred dollars, with dividends sincethirty years they are paying it at 4 per cent. is two hundred dollarsa year more, ain't it?"

  Mrs. Schrimm nodded.

  "What has all this got to do with me, Sam?" she asked.

  Sam cleared his throat.

  "A wife should know how her husband stands," he said huskily. "Ain't itso, Henrietta, _leben_?"

  Mrs. Schrimm nodded again.

  "Did you speak to Henry anything, Sam?" she asked.

  "I didn't say nothing to Henry yet," Sam replied; "but if he'ssatisfied with the business I done for him this morning I would makehim a partnership proposition."

  "But, listen here to me, Sam," Mrs. Schrimm protested. "Me I am alreadyfifty-five years old; and a man like you which you got money,understand me, if you want to get married you could find plenty girlsforty years old which would only be glad they should marryyou--good-looking girls, too, Sam."

  "_Koosh!_" Sam cried, for he had noted a tear steal from the corner ofMrs. Schrimm's eye. He rose from his chair and seated himself on thesofa beside her. "You don't know what you are talking about," he saidas he clasped her hand. "Good looks to some people is red cheeks andblack hair, Henrietta; but with me it is different. The best-lookingwoman in the whole world to me, Henrietta, is got gray hair, with goodbrains underneath--and she is also a little fat, too, understand me;but the heart is big underneath and the hands is red, but they got reddoing _mitzvahs_ for other people, Henrietta."

  He paused and cleared his throat again.

  "And so, Henrietta," he concluded, "if you want me to marry agood-looking girl--this afternoon yet we could go downtown and get thelicense."

  Mrs. Schrimm sat still for two minutes and then she disengaged her handfrom Sam's eager clasp.

  "All I got to do is to put on a clean waist," she said, "and I wouldget my hat on in ten minutes."

  * * * * *

  "The fact of the matter is," Max Gembitz said, two days later, "weain't got the ready money."

  Sam Gembitz nodded. He sat at a desk in Henry Schrimm's office--a newdesk of the latest Wall Street design; and on the third finger of hisleft hand a plain gold band was surmounted by a three-carat diamondring, the gift of the bride.

  "No?" he said, with a rising inflection.

  "And you know as well as I do, popper, we was always a little shortthis time of the year in our business!" Max continued.

  "Our business?" Sam repeated. "You mean your business, Max."

  "What difference does it make?" Max asked.

  "It makes a whole lot of difference, Max," Sam declared; "because, if Iwould be a partner in your business, Max, I would practically got to beone of my own competitors."

  "One of your own competitors!" Max cried. "What d'ye mean?"

  For answer Sam hande
d his son the following card:

  SAMUEL GEMBITZ HENRY SCHRIMM

  GEMBITZ & SCHRIMM

  CLOAKS & SUITS

  --WEST NINETEENTH STREET NEW YORK

  Max gazed at the card for five minutes and then he placed it in hiswaistcoat-pocket.

  "So you are out to do us--what?" Max said bitterly.

  "What are you talking about--out to do you?" Sam replied. "How could anold-timer like me do three up-to-date fellers like you and Sidney andLester? I'm a back number, Max. I ain't got gumption enough to make upa whole lot of garments, all in one style, pastel shades, and sell 'emall to a concern which is on its last legs, Max. I couldn't play thishere _Baytzimmer_ feller's pool, Max, and I couldn't sit up all hoursof the night eating lobsters and oysters and ham and bacon in theHarlem Winter Garden, Max."

  He paused to indulge in a malicious grin.

  "Furthermore, Max," he continued, "how could a poor, sick old mancompete with a lot of healthy young fellers like you boys? I've gotBright's Disease, Max, and I could drop down in the street any minute.And if you don't believe me, Max, you should ask Doctor Eichendorfer.He will tell you the same."

  Max made no reply, but took up his hat from the top of Sam's desk.

  "Wait a minute, Max," Sam said. "Don't be in such a hurry, Max,because, after all, you boys is my sons, anyhow; and so I got aproposition to make to you."

  He pointed to a chair and Max sat down.

  "First, Max," he went on, "I wouldn't ask you for cash. What I want isyou should give me a note at one year for five thousand dollars,without interest."

  "So far as I could see," Max interrupted, "we wouldn't be in no bettercondition to pay you five thousand dollars in one year as we areto-day."

  "I didn't think you would be," Sam said, "but I figured that all out;and if, before the end of one year, you three boys would turn aroundand go to work and get a decent, respectable feller which he wouldmarry Babette and make a home for her, understand me, I would give youback your note."

  "But how could we do that?" Max exclaimed.

  "I leave that to you," Sam replied; "because, anyhow, Max, there'splenty fellers which is designers _oder_ bookkeepers which would marryBabette in a minute if they could get a partnership in an old,established concern like yours."

  "But Babette don't want to get married," Max declared.

  "Don't she?" Sam retorted. "Well, if a woman stands hours and hours infront of the glass and rubs her face _mit_ cold cream and _Gott weiss_what else, Max, if she don't want to get married I'd like to know whatshe does want."

  Again Max rose to his feet.

  "I'll tell the boys what you say," he murmured.

  "Sure," Sam said heartily, "and tell 'em also they should drop in oncetin a while and see mommer and me up in One Hundred and Twenty-seventhStreet."

  Max nodded.

  "And tell Babette to come, also," Sam added; but Max shook his head.

  "I'm afraid she wouldn't do it," he declared. "She says yesterday shewouldn't speak to you again so long as you live."

  Sam emitted a sigh that was a trifle too emphatic in its tremulousness.

  "I'm sorry she feels that way, Max," he said; "but it's an old sayingand a true one, Max: you couldn't make no omelets without beatingeggs."