excitedly. "I bought some while I was out just now."

[Illustration: "Mr. Potash," the visitor began, "every merchant is at
times confronted with a situation which demands a few appropriate
remarks"]

He handed a gold-banded, Bismarck-size cigar to the visitor, who nodded
a dignified acknowledgment and immediately struck a match.

"Yes, Mr. Perlmutter," he went on, "as I was saying, such a topic as the
restriction of immigration would embarrass even an experienced speaker."
He paused and cleared his throat impressively. "Now, I have here," he
said, exploring the capacious pockets of his overcoat, "a work entitled
'A Quarter of a Century in Congress,' by the Honourable Lucius J.
Howell, which, gentlemen, is issued upon subscription only, in half
morocco or crushed levant at a hitherto unheard-of price."

Abe ceased mopping his brow and turned a terrible glare upon the book
canvasser.

"What!" he roared. "A book agent?"

Once more he jumped to his feet. "Out!" he bellowed. "Out from my
office, you dirty loafer!"

The book agent scowled and replaced the bound dummy in his pocket.

"With a high-grade selling proposition like this, Mr. Potash," he said,
"you should be careful of your language."