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His stay was brief, and in five minutes he had relieved Abe of all his spare cigars and departed, leaving only a certified copy of the replevin order and a strong smell of whisky to signalize the transfer of the Empire gowns from Hymie to Abe. Hardly had he banged the door behind him when a messenger boy entered and handed a telegram to Abe. "Ain't shipped no goods but the 4022's," it read.
"I got a few words to say to Abe, Mawruss," he replied. "Is he in now?" Morris smiled amiably, although he was convinced that Felix's visit boded a cancellation of the 4022's. "He ain't in now," he answered, "but if you wait a few minutes he'll be right back."
Felix Geigermann placed his hand on Abe's arm. "Say, lookyhere, Abe," he said. "I'll tell you the truth. I am pretty busy to-day here to cancel them 4022's; but now I don't care at all. You could ship them goods if you want to, Abe; but one thing I ask you as a favour let me go with him. I don't care what the other feller says.
"You don't know what you are talking about, Abe." Nevertheless, when Felix Geigermann, the well-known Harlem dry-goods merchant and violin dilettante, entered Potash & Perlmutter's showroom the next morning Morris greeted him with some misgiving. "Hello, Felix!" he said. "Are you giving us a repeat order so soon already on them 4022's?" Felix shook his head.
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