"Doing you for!" Sam cried. "What d'ye mean, doing you for? One garment was damaged in the packing which I deducted the four dollars; and if you wouldn't believe me here it is now." He unwrapped the brown-paper parcel and disclosed a crumpled article of women's apparel, which Morris shook out and examined critically. "In the first place, Sam," he commented, "the garment has been worn." "What are you talking nonsense--worn?" Sam protested. "Once only my Leah puts it on to see the damage. There it is." Sam pointed with his forefinger and Morris looked at the spot indicated. "Well, how could that be damaged in packing, Sam?" Morris asked indignantly. "That's a stain from _lockshen_ soup." "My wife must got to eat like any other woman!" Sam exclaimed indignantly; "and besides, Mawruss, the stain ain't all soup, y'understand--some of it gets wet in the packing-case." "Well, I wouldn't bother my head about it no more," Morris retorted. "I deposited your check just now and we are lucky, if you would deduct four dollars, that we got our money at all." "Maybe you are and maybe you ain't, Mawruss," Sam commented. "That's what I come down to see you about." "What d'ye mean?" Morris cried. "I mean," Sam said in husky tones, "I don't know whether the check is good at all. When I mailed it you I got a little balance at my bank, but yesterday afternoon the president sends for me and shuts down on my accommodation; and maybe--I don't know whether he did _oder_ not, y'understand--he takes my balance on account." Morris laid down the garment and fixed his visitor with an angry glare. "So!" he exploded; "you are going to fail on us?" Sam disclaimed it indignantly. "What d'ye think I am?" he demanded--"a crook? And besides, I ain't got nothing to fail with." Morris drew forward a chair. Sam sat down; and leaning back he nursed his cheek with his hand in an attitude of utter dejection. "Well, what are you going to do?" Morris asked. "That's what I come down here to find out," Sam replied. Then ensued a silence of several minutes during which Morris gazed attentively at his customer. "The fact is, Sam," he said at last, "you ain't got no head." Sam nodded sadly. "You're a fool, Sam," Morris went on in kindly accents; "and no matter how hard a fool would work he is a poor man all his life." Sam deemed it hardly worth while to acquiesce in this statement, but he indorsed it unconsciously with a large tear, which stole put of the corner of his eye and worked a clean groove down one travel-stained cheek. "Have a smoke, Sam," Morris added hastily as he thrust a cigar toward his late customer. "Did you got your lunch yet? No? Come on out with me now and we would have a little bite to eat." He jumped to his feet and seized his hat. "Nathan," he bawled to the shipping clerk, "tell Mr. Potash I am going out with a customer and I'll be back when I am here." * * * * *