Minnie came in almost as soon as Frank left. She was all dressed up, too, in another dress she hadn't bought in my store. There was a young fellow with her. He wasn't good-looking or bad-looking; just the sort of fellow you'd see anywhere. But Minnie seemed to think he was something pretty special, to judge by the way she was clutching his arm. "Are you going to Texas too?" I asked. "Oh, no," she said: "I'm getting married." "Oh?" Jane asked. "Yes ma'am," Minnie said. "Herb and I were going to wait 'til he finished dental school, so he shouldn't be living off his parents. But now--" She looked very cute, I must say. Her hair was a light blonde. It looked fine on her. "Here, Minnie," my wife said. She took the other two thousand out of my hand and gave it to her. "Have a good time these last days." "Hey!" I said, when Minnie and her young man had gone. "How about us? We'll never be able to get in a bank. What'll we do?" "Quit worrying," Jane told me. "Don't you believe in young love?" She found the one comfortable chair in the place--the one we reserve for customers--and sat down. "I've been too careful," she said when she saw me looking at her. "I see," I said. "And as far as money goes," she continued, "haven't you any faith? The Lord will provide." "That's fine by me," I said, and sat down beside her. The door opened, and in walked a short man. He was oldish, and dressed like a banker, but I knew right away he was in the dress line. There's something about the dress line, you can always tell. "Not much business?" he asked. "Not much." There hadn't been a customer in all day--or all yesterday, now that I thought about it. "That's understandable," he told me. "It's because everyone is storming the big stores, the expensive stores. Everyone wants to wear the best dresses on their last days." "Sounds logical," I said. "Logical, but not entirely right," he said, frowning seriously through a little pince-nez. "Why should the big, expensive stores drive the middle-class retailer out of business? I am here as a representative of Bonzelli's--to reimburse you for your financial loss." With that he dropped a thick manilla envelope on the counter, smiled, and left. "Bonzelli's," my wife commented coolly. "They're--expensive." Inside the envelope there was eight thousand dollars. * * * * * That wasn't the end of it. Strangers dropped in every few minutes, leaving money. After a while, I started handing it back. I went down the block to Ollie Bernstein's store, with twenty thousand dollars in a paper bag. I met him on the way. He had a fistful of bills. "I've got a little gift for you, ex-competitor," he said. It was about fifteen thousand dollars. Everyone with money was handing it over, and getting it back from someone else. "I've got an idea," I said. "How about the unfortunate?" "You mean the Bronx dress shops?" he asked. "No, I mean the derelicts, the bums. Why shouldn't they share?"