"What do you think of _that_?" Morris cried. "My Minnie just rang me up
and says she got tickets for the theayter to-morrow night--two tickets.
We can't use 'em, because we're going to a--a wedding. Would you two
young folks like to go, maybe?"

"Why, sure," Ike said. "Sure we would. Wouldn't we, Miss Cohen?"

Miss Cohen assented bashfully.

"Well, then," said Morris, "I'll get 'em for you--I mean I'll send 'em
you by mail to-night, Ike."

Ike was profuse in his thanks; and then and there arranged to call for
Miss Cohen at half-past seven, sharp, the following evening.

Morris beamed his approval and shook hands heartily with Ike as the
latter turned to leave.

"How about that mistake in the statement?" Ike asked.

"Some other time," said Morris, walking with Ike toward the store-door.
Then he sank his voice to a confidential whisper. "That's a fine girl,
Miss Cohen," he went on. "Comes of fine family, too. She's Max Cohen's
niece. You know Max Cohen. He's the Beacon Credit Outfitting Company.
He's a _millionaire_, Ike. If he's worth a cent, he's worth a hundred
thousand dollars!"

Ike turned on him an awed yet searching look as they clasped hands again
in parting.