"Yes, Sol," he said, "if Mawruss would find it out that I am overdrawn on him forty-eight dollars, he would abuse me like a pickpocket. That feller never gives me credit for being square at all, Sol. I would be afraid for my life if he would get on to that forty-eight dollars. Why, the very first thing you know, Sol, he would be going around telling everybody I was a crook and a cutthroat. That's the kind of feller Mawruss is, Sol. I could treat him always like a gentleman, Sol, and if the smallest little thing happens to us, 'sucker' is the least what he calls me." At this juncture the green baize doors leading into the hall burst open and Morris himself leaped into the show-room. His necktie was perched rakishly underneath his right ear, and his collar was of the moisture and consistency of a used wash rag. His clothes were dripping, for he carried no umbrella, and his hair hung in damp strands over his forehead. Nevertheless he was grinning broadly, as without a word he ran up to Abe and seized his hand. For two minutes Morris shook it up and down and then he collapsed into the nearest chair. "Well, Mawruss," Abe cried, "what's the matter? Couldn't you say nothing? What did you come downtown again for? You should have stayed uptown with Minnie." "S'all right, Abe," Morris gasped. "S'all over, too. The doctor says instead I should be making a nuisance of myself uptown, I would be better off in the store here. He was there before I could get home." "Who was there?" Abe asked. "The doctor?" "_Not_ the doctor," Morris went on. "The boy was there. Minnie is doing fine. The doctor said everything would be all right." "That's good. That's good," Abe murmured. "Y'oughter seen him, Abe. He weighed ten pounds," Morris continued. "I bet yer he could holler, too,--like an auctioneer already. Minnie says also I shouldn't forget to tell you what we agreed upon." "What we agreed upon?" Abe repeated. "Why we ain't agreed upon nothing, so far what I hear, Mawruss. What d'ye mean--what we agreed upon?" "Not _you_ and me, Abe," Morris cried. "_Her_ and me. We agreed that if it was a boy we'd call him Abraham P. Perlmutter already." He slapped Abe on the back and laughed uproariously, while Abe looked guilty and blushed a deep crimson. "Abraham Potash Perlmutter," Morris reiterated. "That's one fine name, Sol." It was now Sol's turn to take Morris' hand and he squeezed it hard. "I congradulate you for the boy and for the name both," he said. Once more Abe seized his partner's hand and shook it rhythmically up and down as though it were a patent exerciser.