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Updated: September 29, 2025
A cold perspiration broke out on Morris and he fairly staggered into the show-room. "Lady," he croaked, "do me a favor and tell me what is your name, please." The lady laughed. "Well, Mr. Perlmutter," she said, "I'm sure this is most extraordinary. Of course, there is such a thing as combining business and pleasure; but, as I told Mr.
Perlmutter, I let you know next week." About ten days afterward, while Morris and Abe were in the throes of packing, prior to the removal of their business, the letter-carrier entered with a batch of mail, and Morris immediately took it into the show-room. "Here, Abe," he said, as he glanced at the first envelope, "this is for you." Then he proceeded to go through the remainder of the pile.
"I guess he found it out," he said to himself as he descended the stairs and made for the show-room. When he entered he found Morris seated in a chair with the first edition of an evening paper clutched in his hand. "What's the matter, Mawruss?" Abe said. Morris gulped once or twice and made a feeble attempt to brandish the paper. "Matter?" he croaked. "Nothing's the matter.
And no doubt when the time came to go we should be able to go quite easily. It was a long, rambling place, that show-room, a gallery broken up by stands and stalls and pillars, with archways leading off to other departments, in which the queerest-looking assistants loafed and stared at one, and with perplexing mirrors and curtains.
She was quite one to be blind to the solid advantages of her position, and to look with querulous regret upon all the flashy and brilliant part of such a business, in which she was not allowed to take the least share. Precisely because she was so beautiful did Mrs. Fisher exclude her from the show-room that theatre which was to have been the scene of her triumphs.
Burke with a final glare. "Pearls before swine!" he bellowed, and banged the show-room door behind him. Mr. Burke looked at Morris. "That's a lowlife for you," he said. "A respectable concern should have a salesman like him! Ain't it a shame and a disgrace?" Morris nodded. "He takes me to a place where nothing but loafers is," Mr.
At this crisis there occurred a scuffle and commotion on the stairs, and Bessie recognized a voice she had heard elsewhere a loud, ineffectual voice pleading, "Master Justus, Master Justus, you are not to go to your granny in the show-room;" and in Master Justus bounced lovely, delicious, in the whitest of frilly pinafores and most boisterous of naughty humors.
Five days after his migration to that garden spot of Greater New York he entered the firm's show-room at a quarter past ten. "We got blocked at Flatbush Avenue this morning," he said to Abe, "and " But Abe was paying no attention to his partner's excuses.
They pressed their noses against the window of the show-room, and gazed down into the Square as perpendicularly as the projecting front of the shop would allow. The show-room was over the millinery and silken half of the shop. Over the woollen and shirting half were the drawing-room and the chief bedroom.
By a feat of legerdemain that a conjurer might have envied, Morris transferred the pin and ring to his waistcoat pocket and followed Abe to the show-room. "Well, Hymie," Morris cried, "we thought you would be prompt on the day. Ain't it?" Hymie smiled a sickly smirk in which there was as little mirth as there was friendliness. "You got another think coming," Hymie replied. "What d'ye mean?"
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