effusively. He wanted that second order badly, and if cordiality could
accelerate its shipment he was willing to try it with Abe.

"Ah, _mon ami_," he cried. "Come inside my office. What good wind blows
you here?"

Abe scowled. All this enthusiasm betokened but one thing--the violin was
a genuine Amati, after all. He sat down slowly and bit the end off a
large cigar.

"The fact is, Felix," he began, "for myself I don't care, y'understand,
but you know Mawruss Perlmutter, what a crank that feller is, Felix; and
so I am coming up here to ask you something for a question."

"Fire away, Abe; you couldn't feaze me none," Felix replied in the
accents of Newark, N. J.

"Well, Felix, it's like this," Abe went on: "If we would be selling
goods to J. B. Morgan, y'understand, and Mawruss here he is buying for
eight dollars a fur overcoat--understand me--he right away would want
another statement."

Felix nodded. "Nowadays you can't be too cautious," he agreed.

"So, this morning, in the paper," Abe continued, "Mawruss reads you are
buying for three thousand dollars a fiddle and----"

"But, Abe," Felix interrupted, "it was a genuine Amati."

"Sure, I know," Abe said; "but yesterday I myself am bringing you a