"Excuse _me_," Abe cried. "Excuse me."

"S'all right," Morris replied. "I seen what you was doing and I should
of ordered an umbrella instead of a glass of water already."

Abe laughed uproariously.

"Dill pickles is uncertain like Paris fashions," he commented. "You
could never tell what they would do next."

"I bet yer," Morris replied. "Last year people was buying silks like
they was crazy, y'understand, and this year you would think silks was
poison. A buyer wouldn't touch 'em at all, and that's the way it goes."

Abe rose with the napkin tucked in his neck, and carrying the dish of
dill pickles with him, he sat down at Morris' table, to which Louis
brought the roast beef a moment later.

"I seen you was in the cloak and suit business as soon as I looked at
you," Abe said. "I guess I'll eat here till your friends come."

"Go ahead," Morris replied. "It's already quarter past one, and if them
fellers don't come soon, I'm going to eat, too."

"What's the use waiting?" Abe said. "Eat anyhow. This roast beef is
fine. Try some of it on me."

"Why should I stick you for my lunch?" Morris rejoined. "I see them
suckers ain't going to show up at all, so I guess I'll take a sandwich