"Right away!" said Louis, and hustled off to fill Abe Potash's order, whereat Abe selected a dill pickle to beguile the tedium of waiting. He grasped it firmly between his thumb and finger, and neatly bisected it with his teeth. Simultaneously the pickle squirted, and about a quarter of a pint of the acid juice struck Morris Perlmutter in the right eye. "Excuse _me_," Abe cried. "Excuse me." "S'all right," Morris replied. "I seen what you was doing and I should of ordered an umbrella instead of a glass of water already." Abe laughed uproariously. "Dill pickles is uncertain like Paris fashions," he commented. "You could never tell what they would do next." "I bet yer," Morris replied. "Last year people was buying silks like they was crazy, y'understand, and this year you would think silks was poison. A buyer wouldn't touch 'em at all, and that's the way it goes." Abe rose with the napkin tucked in his neck, and carrying the dish of dill pickles with him, he sat down at Morris' table, to which Louis brought the roast beef a moment later. "I seen you was in the cloak and suit business as soon as I looked at you," Abe said. "I guess I'll eat here till your friends come." "Go ahead," Morris replied. "It's already quarter past one, and if them fellers don't come soon, I'm going to eat, too." "What's the use waiting?" Abe said. "Eat anyhow. This roast beef is fine. Try some of it on me." "Why should I stick you for my lunch?" Morris rejoined. "I see them suckers ain't going to show up at all, so I guess I'll take a sandwich and a cup of coffee." He motioned to Louis. "Right away!" Louis cried. "Yes, sir, we got some nice _Koenigsberger Klops_ to-day _mit Kartoffel Kloes_." "What d'ye take this gentleman for, anyway, Louis?" Abe asked. "A garbage can? Give him a nice slice of roast beef well done and a baked potato. Also bring two cups of coffee and give it the checks to me." By a quarter to two Abe and Morris had passed from business matters to family affairs, and after they had exchanged cigars and the conversation had reached a stage where Morris had just accepted an invitation to dine at Abe's house, Noblestone and Zudrowsky entered, with Harry Federmann bringing up in the rear. Harry was evidently in disfavor, and his weak, blond face wore the crestfallen look of a whipped child, for he had been so occupied with his billing and cooing up town, that he had forgotten his business engagement. "Hallo, Mr. Perlmutter," Noblestone cried, and then he caught sight of Morris' companion and the remains of their generous meal. "I thought you was going to take lunch with us." "Do I got to starve, Mr. Who's-this--I lost your card--just because I was fool enough to take up your proposition yesterday? I should of known better in the first place." "But this here young feller, Mr. Federmann, got detained uptown," Zudrowsky explained. "His wife got took suddenly sick."