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Miss Kreitmann left at the end of the week, and Abe and Morris wasted no time in vain regrets over her departure, but proceeded at once to assort and make up a new line of samples for Philip Hahn's inspection. For three days they jumped every time a customer entered the store, and Abe wore a genial smile of such fixity that his face fairly ached.
"I know it, Mawruss," Abe replied, "but he's got six stores, and they're all making out good. But, anyhow, Mawruss, I ain't going to do nothing in a hurry. I'll make good inquiries before I answer him." "What's the use of making inquiries?" Morris protested. "Tell him it's all right. I got enough of this Miss Kreitmann already, Abe. She's killed enough trade for us." "What!" Abe cried.
"So, I guess you'd better go over to Miss Cohen, the bookkeeper, and she'll show you where to put your hat and coat." "Oh, I ain't in no hurry," Miss Kreitmann replied. "To-morrow morning will do." "Sure, sure," Abe murmured.
He says Hahn picks out never less than a couple of hundred of one style, and also Hahn is a liberal buyer, Mawruss." "Of course, Abe," Morris commenced, "if we're doing this to oblige Philip Hahn " "We're doing it to oblige Philip Hahn and Max Fried both, Mawruss," Abe broke in. "Max says he ain't got a minute's peace since Miss Kreitmann is old enough to get married." "So!" Morris cried.
In three hours he returned and entered the show-room. "Well, Abe," Morris cried, "what did you find out? Is it all right?" Abe carefully selected a fresh cigar and shook his head solemnly. "Nix, Mawruss," he said. "Mendel Immerglick is nix for a nice girl like Miss Kreitmann." He took paper out of his waistcoat pocket for the purpose of refreshing his memory.
For several days afterward Miss Kreitmann went about her work with nothing but scowls for Potash & Perlmutter's customers, married and unmarried alike. "The thing goes too far, Abe," Morris protested. "She kills our entire trade. Hahn or no Hahn, Abe, I say we should fire her." Abe shook his head. "It ain't necessary, Mawruss," he replied. "What d'ye mean?" "The girl gets desperate, Mawruss.
His wife got a sister what they wanted to make from her a teacher, Mawruss, but she ain't got the head. So, Max thinks we could maybe use her for a model. Her name is Miss Kreitmann and she's a perfect thirty-six, Max says, only a little fat." "And then, when she tries on a garment for a customer," Morris rejoined, "the customer goes around telling everybody that we cut our stuff too skimpy.
He had just fired Mannie Gubin with a relish and satisfaction second only to what would have been his sensations if the operation had been directed toward Miss Kreitmann. As he was about to leave the show-room Abe entered. "Oh, Mawruss," Abe cried, "you ought to see Miss Kreitmann. She's all broke up about Mannie Gubin, and she's crying something terrible." "Is she?"
"Now we can do maybe some business." "Maybe we can," Abe admitted. "But not with Philip Hahn." "Why not?" Morris cried. "We done our best by him. Ain't we? Through him we lost it a good customer, and we got to let go a good shipping clerk." "Not a good shipping clerk, Mawruss," Abe corrected. "Well, he was a good one till Miss Kreitmann comes." Abe made no reply.
Potash," he said severely, "this is Miss Gussie Kreitmann, my wife's sister, what I talked to you about." Abe grinned shyly. "All right," he said, and shook hands with Miss Kreitmann, who returned his grin with a dazzling smile. "Mr. Fried tells me you like to come to work by us as a model. Ain't it?" Abe continued in the accents of the sucking dove.