in my place and--why, there's the feller now!"

"Feller! What d'ye mean--feller?" Abe cried indignantly. "That ain't no
feller. That's Mr. Max Linkheimer."

"Sure, I know!" Jake explained. "He's the feller I mean. Half an hour
ago I was in his place, and they says there he comes up here. You was in
_mein_ store this morning, Mr. Linkheimer, ain't that right, and you
bought from me a package of all-tobacco cigarettes?"

"_Nu, nu_, Jake," Morris broke in. "Make an end. You are interrupting us
here."

Jake drew back his coat and clumsily unfastened a large safety pin which
sealed the opening of his upper right-hand waistcoat pocket. Then he
dug down with his thumb and finger and produced a small yellow wad
about the size of a postage stamp. This he proceeded to unfold until it
took on the appearance of a hundred-dollar bill.

"He gives me this here," Jake announced, "and I give him the change for
a ten-dollar bill. So this here is a hundred-dollar bill, ain't it, and
it don't belong to me, which I come downtown I should give it him back
again. What isn't mine I don't want at all."

This was perhaps the longest speech that Jake had ever made, and he
paused to lick his dry lips for the peroration.

"And so," he concluded, handing the bill to Linkheimer, "here it is,
and--and nine dollars and ninety cents, please."