"Lowenstein wires he insists on delivery entire order complete, otherwise he will sue. What shall I wire him? MORRIS." Abe seized his hat and dashed down the street to the telegraph office. "Gimme a blank," he said to the operator, who handed him a whole padful. For the next twenty minutes Abe scribbled and tore up by turns until he finally evolved a satisfactory missive. This he handed to the operator, who read it with a broad grin and passed it back at once. "Wot d'ye take me for?" he said. "A bum? Dere's ladies in de main office." Abe glared at the operator and began again. "Here," he said to the operator after another quarter of an hour of scribbling and tearing up, "send this." It was in the following form: _Don't send no more goods to Lowenstein " " " " wires " nobody_ "Fourteen words," the operator said. "Fifty-four cents." "What's that?" Abe cried. "What yer trying to do? Make money on me? That ain't no fourteen words. That's _nine_ words." "It is, hey?" the operator rejoined. "Quit yer kiddin'. Dat's fourteen words. Ditto marks don't go, see?" "You're a fresh young feller," said Abe, paying over fifty-four cents, "and I got a good mind to report you to the head office." The operator laughed raucously. "G'wan!" he said. "Beat it, or I'll sick de cops onter yer. It's agin the law to cuss in Pittsburgh, even by telegraft." When Abe returned to the Outlet Auction House's store Hyman was busy stacking up the plum-color gowns in piles convenient for shipping. "Well, Abe," he said, "I thought you was here for a vacation. You're doing some pretty tall hustling for a sick man, I must say." "I'll tell you the truth, Hymie," Abe replied, "I ain't got no time to be sick. It ain't half-past three yet, and I guess I'll take a couple of them garments and see what I can do with the jobbing and retail trade in this here town." "Don't you think you'd better take it easy for a while, Abe?" Hyman suggested. "I am taking it easy," said Abe. "So long as I ain't working I'm resting, ain't it, Hymie? And you know as well as I do, Hymie, selling goods never was work to me. It's a pleasure, Hymie, I assure you." He placed two of the plum-colored Empire gowns under his arm, and thrusting his hat firmly on the back of his head made straight for the dry-goods district. Two hours later he returned, wearing a broad smile that threatened to engulf his stubby black mustache between his nose and his chin. "Hymie," he said, "I'm sorry I got to disturb that nice pile you made of them garments. I'll get right to work myself and assort the sizes." "Why, what's the trouble now, Abe?" Hyman asked. "I disposed of 'em, Hymie," Abe replied. "Two hundred to Hamburg and Weiss. Three hundred to the Capitol Credit Outfitting Company, and five hundred to Feinroth and Pearl." "Hold on there, Abe!" Hymie exclaimed. "You only got six hundred, and you sold a thousand garments."