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Updated: May 12, 2025
Abel I. Fromkin gulped. "Fifty thousand," he said. "Fifty thousand," repeated Emma quietly, and looked at Buck. "Thanks, Mr. Fromkin! I know, now, that if it's worth fifty thousand to you to-day as the 'Fromkin Full-flounce Skirt. It Flares! then it's worth one hundred and fifty thousand to us as the 'T. A. Buck Balloon-Petticoat. It Billows!" And it was.
Then, his shrewd little eyes narrowing, "You want to talk business?" "Not here," said Buck abruptly. "Sure here," insisted Fromkin. "Say, that's me. When I got a thing on my mind, I like to settle it. How much you take for the rights to that skirt?" "Take for it!" exclaimed Emma, in the tone a mother would use to one who has suggested taking a beloved child from her. "Now wait a minute.
Don't get mad. You ain't started that skirt right. It should have been advertised. It's too much of a shock. You'll see. They won't buy. They're afraid of it. I'll take it off your hands and push it right, see? I offer you forty thousand for the rights to make that skirt and advertise it as the 'Fromkin Full-flounce Skirt. It Flares!" Emma smiled. "How much?" she asked quizzically.
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