Katzberg shrugged and extended one palm outward in a gesture of despair. "Seemingly we are not our own bosses here," he said. "Seemingly not," Abe rejoined; "but, just the same, if you will take on this young feller for a salesman I would give you a guaran_tirt_ that I will make good all you would lose on him for the first three months. Is my word good enough?" "Sure, it is!" Shapolnik cried. "When would you come to work by us, Mr. Koblin?" "This morning," Abe answered for Sidney--"right now; and one thing I must got to say to you, Sidney, before I go: stand in your own shoes and don't try to excuse yourself, on account you got a rich father. Also, if the old man makes you an offer you should come back to him, turn it down. Take it from me, Sidney, you got a big future here." With a parting handshake all around Abe started back to his place of business. Five minutes later he boarded a Broadway car, and when he alighted at Nineteenth Street he picked his way through a jam of vehicles, which completely blocked that narrow thoroughfare. As he was about to set foot on the sidewalk he caught sight of the gray, drawn countenance of the Raincoat King, who sat beside his chauffeur on the front seat of a touring car. "Say, Max," Abe cried, "I want to speak to you a few words something." Max Koblin turned his head and recognized Abe with a start. "What d'ye want from me?" he said huskily. "I want to tell you the boy is all right," Abe replied. The colour surged to Max's face and he leaped wildly from the automobile. "What d'ye mean, all right?" he gasped. "I mean all right in every way, Max," Abe answered; "and if you would step into Hammersmith's for a minute I'll tell you all about it." "Where is he?" Max cried. Abe led the way to a table. "He's where he should have been _schon_ long since already," he said as they sat down. "He's got a job and he's going to make good on it." "What are you talking nonsense?" Max exploded. "Where is my Sidney? His mother is pretty near crazy." "She shouldn't worry," Abe replied calmly. "The boy is coming home to-night; and if I would be you, Max, I would see to it he pays anyhow eight dollars a week board." Once more Max grew white--with anger this time. "Jokes you are making with me!" he bellowed. "Tell me where my boy is quick or I'll----" "_Koosh_, Max!" Abe interrupted. "You are making a fool of yourself. I ain't hiding your boy. Just listen a few minutes and I'll tell you all about it." Forthwith he unfolded to Max a vivid narrative of that morning's adventures; when he concluded Max had grown somewhat calmer. "But, Potash," he protested, "I don't want the boy he should work by somebody else. Let him come and sell goods by me."