Plotkin, proprietors--was obviously his own ideal of a well-dressed man.
His shirts and waistcoats represented a taste as original as it was not
subdued; but it was in the selection of his neckties that he really
excelled. Abe and Morris fairly blinked as they surveyed his latest
acquisition in cravats when he entered the door of their store that
afternoon, smiling a pleasant greeting at his prospective customers.

He presented so brilliant a picture that Miss Cohen was drawn from her
desk in the glass-enclosed office toward the trio in the sample room as
inevitably as the moth to the candle flame. She took up some cutting
slips from a table, by way of excuse for her intrusion, but the blush
and smile with which she acknowledged Ike's rather perfunctory nod
betrayed her. Abe was fingering the Hamsuckett swatches, but Miss
Cohen's embarrassment did not escape Morris Perlmutter. He marked it
with an inward start, and immediately conceived a brilliant idea.

"Ike," he said, when Abe had completed the giving of a small order and
had left them alone together, "a young feller like you ought to get
married."

Ike was non-committal.

"Sure Mawruss," he replied. "Every young feller ought to get married."

"I'm glad you look at it so sensible, Ike," Morris went on. "Getting
married right, Ike, has been the making of many a young feller. Where
d'ye suppose Goldner & Plotkin would be to-day if they hadn't got
married right? They'd be selling goods for somebody else, Ike. But
Goldner, he married Bella Frazinsky, with a couple of thousand dollars
maybe; and Plotkin, he goes to work and gets Garfunkel's sister--she was