"Buy his ticket!" Morris gasped.

"That's right," Abe continued, with forced calmness, "because, Mawruss,
they wouldn't let no one travel on a steamer without buying a ticket.
People what runs steamers is very funny that way, Mawruss."

Morris grew pale as he removed his coat and hat.

"What's he buying a steamer ticket for?" he asked.

"He didn't tell me exactly, Mawruss," Abe went on, "but I got a sort of
an idee he's going back to Italy, Mawruss, and next time, Mawruss, when
we hire a designer, understand me, I would do it myself. Also, Mawruss,
I would hire a designer which, if he goes back to the old country,
y'understand, they would right away take him for a soldier, and then,
Mawruss, we wouldn't got to be left without a designer just in the
middle of the busy season."

"Did you talk to him, Abe?" Morris inquired timidly. "Maybe we could
jolly him into staying."

Abe nodded again.

"Maybe you could jolly a duck not to swim in the water, Mawruss," he
cried bitterly.

"That's all right, Abe," Morris retorted. "A duck ain't got no use for a
couple of hundred dollars bonus."