"So I got an idea," Morris went on, "that we go to Louis and tell him we give him the same money what Sammet Brothers give him, only we give him a bonus." "A bonus!" Abe cried. "How much of a bonus?" "A _big_ bonus, Abe," Morris replied. "We'll give him the house." Abe remained silent. "It'll look big, anyhow," Morris continued. "Look big!" Abe exclaimed. "It is big. It's three thousand dollars." "Well, you can't reckon stickers by what they cost," Morris explained. "It's what they'll sell for." "You're right, Mawruss," Abe commented bitterly. "And that house wouldn't sell for Confederate money. I'll see Louis Mintz to-night." Abe saw Louis that very evening, and they met by appointment at the store ten days later. In the meantime Louis had inspected the house, and when he entered Potash & Perlmutter's show-room his face wore none too cheerful an expression. "Well, Louis," Abe cried, "you come to tell us it's all right. Ain't it?" Louis shook his head. "Abe," he said, "the old saying is you should never look at a horse's teeth what somebody gives you, but that house is pretty near vacant." "What of it?" Abe asked. "It's a fine house, ain't it?" "Sure, it's a fine house," Louis agreed. "But what good is a fine house if you can't rent it? You can't eat it, can you?" "No," Morris replied, "but you can sell it." "Well," Louis admitted, "selling houses ain't in my line? Maybe if I knew enough about it I could sell it." "But there's real-estaters what knows all about selling a house," Morris began. "You bet there is," Abe interrupted savagely. "And you could get a real-estater to sell it for you," Morris concluded with malevolent glance at his partner. Louis consulted a list of the tenants which he had made. "I'll think it over," he said, "and let you know to-morrow." The next day he greeted Abe and Morris more cordially. "I thought it over, Abe," he said, "and I guess it'll be all right." "Fine!" Abe cried. "Let's go down and see Henry D. Feldman right away." Just as a congenital dislocation of the hipbone suggests the name of Doctor Lorenz, so the slightest dislocation of the cloak and suit business immediately calls for Henry D. Feldman. No cloak and suit bankruptcy would be complete without his name as attorney, either for the petitioning creditors or the bankrupt, and no action for breach of contract of employment on the part of a designer or a salesman could successfully go to the jury unless Henry D. Feldman wept crocodile tears over the summing up of the plaintiff's case. In the art of drawing agreements relative to the cloak and suit trade in all its phases of buying, selling, employing or renting, he was a virtuoso, and his income was that of six Supreme Court judges rolled into one. For the rest, he was of impressive, clean-shaven appearance, and he was of the opinion that a liberal sprinkling of Latin phrases rendered his conversation more pleasing to his clients.