Abe Potash laid down the letter with a sigh, while his thumb still rested caressingly on the open page of the mercantile agency book. "So he's going to send back the present!" he said. "That man Marcus Bramson, proprietor, has a big heart, Mawruss. He's a man with fine feelings and a fine disposition, Mawruss. He's got a fine rating too, Mawruss--seventy-five to a hundred thousand, first credit!" He closed the book almost lovingly. "D'ye think they would give the money back for that present, Mawruss?" "I don't know," said Morris. "Minnie bought it, and she told me it was a big bargain. It was a sale, she said, but I guess they'll take it back." "What did it look like?" Abe said. "I didn't see it," Morris replied. "They sent it direct from the store, but I took Minnie's word for it. She said it was fine value." "And Minnie," Abe concluded, "is a fine, up-to-date woman." * * * * * Two days later, Abe Potash spotted the name of Marcus Bramson in the "Arrival of Buyers" column of a morning newspaper. "Mawruss," he cried, "he's come!" "Who's come?" Morris asked. "Marcus Bramson," Abe replied, reaching for his hat. "I'm going over to the Bingler House now to meet him. You wait here till I come back. I bet you we sell him a big bill of goods!" As Abe went out of the store by the front door, an expressman, bearing a square wooden box, entered the rear alley. He brought the package straight to Miss Cohen, who signed a receipt, and summoned Mr. Perlmutter. Morris proceeded to pry off the cover. "This is something what Mrs. Perlmutter bought for Hyman Maimin's wedding present," he explained. "I ain't never seen it yet." He pulled out a number of wads of tissue paper. When he finally reached a piece of silverware, he turned the box upside down and shook out the remainder of its contents upon a sample table. "Oh, Mr. Perlmutter," Mist Cohen exclaimed, clasping her hands, "what a beautiful bonbon dish! What a lovely wedding present!" Morris looked at the bonbon dish, and beads of perspiration started on his forehead. "Ain't Mrs. Perlmutter got good taste!" Miss Cohen went on enthusiastically. Morris said nothing, but picked up the silver dish. Examining the polished centre carefully, he discerned the indistinct initials "M. P." almost but not quite effaced by buffing. Undoubtedly it was the same bonbon dish. He gathered up the tissue paper and carefully arranged it in the box as a bed for the silver dish. Then he put the cover on, and nailed it down. "Ain't you going to let Mr. Potash see it?" Miss Cohen asked. "He ain't never seen it before, neither, has he?" Morris frowned. "I think he has," he replied. "Anyhow, I'm going to send it right uptown by messenger boy." "Do you think they'll exchange it?" Miss Cohen inquired. "Oh, I guess it will be put back in stock all right," said Morris, turning away. * * * * *