Mrs. Sammet indorsed the sentiment with another smile, and Sol with his retinue passed on into the back parlour for the purpose of inspecting the presents. In the meantime other guests had preceded them, and among them was a man whose bearing and raiment proclaimed the creature of fashion. Not only were his trousers of the latest narrow design, but they were of sufficient modish brevity half to conceal and half to reveal a pair of gossamer silk socks, which in their turn were incased by patent-leather, low-cut shoes. The latter exhibited the square knobbiness that only fashion artists can impart to the footgear of their models, while the broad laces that held them by the insecure hold of two eyelets were knotted in a bow that might have been appended to the collar of Mr. Paderewski himself. "Ain't this Mr. Gurin?" Sol Klinger asked, and the creature of fashion nodded. "You're a friend of the _Kahlo_, ain't it?" Klinger commented, employing the vernacular equivalent for the English word "bride." "In a way," Gurin said evasively; "_aber_ the _Khosan_ I don't know at all." Thus did Gurin imply that he was not acquainted with the future bridegroom, and Klinger volunteered the information that Asimof ran a dry-goods store in Dotyville, Pennsylvania. "I sold him goods for years," he added, "and I guess I would continue to do so, even if that Ganef Sammet would make twenty engagement parties for 'em. Did you see the samovar I gave 'em?" He pointed proudly to a silver-plated object, and Gurin glanced at it scornfully. "Potash & Perlmutter gives 'em solid silver," he commented--"a wide dish." "Sure I know," Klinger said, "thin like paper." "_Aber_ sterling," Gurin insisted, and Klinger made a telling diversion. "I suppose you sent 'em something sterling also," he said. "Me?" Gurin exclaimed. "Why should I buy presents? I am a retailer myself, Mr. Klinger, so I sent 'em some flowers." "I don't see 'em nowhere," Sol retorted. "They're over there," B. Gurin said, making a sweeping gesture in the general direction of the mantelpiece, and as he did so a bass voice sounded at his elbow. "Put out my eye why don't you?" cried Abe Potash, and then he recognized his assailant. "Say, what are you doing here?" he demanded. B. Gurin looked coldly at his creditor and shrugged his shoulders. "I got just so much right to be here as you," he said, "and that partner of yours too." He hurled this defiance at Morris, who had entered the room on Abe's heels; but the retort passed unnoticed so far as Morris was concerned, since he was absorbed in the contemplation of the presents. "Well, Klinger," he said, "you are making Mrs. Gladstein a pretty fine present, ain't it?" Klinger scowled. "Mrs. Gladstein I ain't bothering my head about at all," he replied. "But when a cut-throat like Sammet makes out a scheme to steal away from me an old customer like Asimof I got to protect myself." Morris whistled expressively.