nodded. 

 "Miss Meyerson is right, Aaron," he said. "You ought to take care of yourself." 

 Aaron wiped his eyes and his moustache with his handkerchief. 

 "You ain't got maybe a little schnapps in your desk, Max?" he said. 

 "Schnapps is the worst thing you could take, Mr. Pinsky," Miss Meyerson cried. "Don't give him any, Mr. Fatkin; it'll only make him worse." 

 She shook her head warningly at Aaron as she and Sam walked back to the office. 

 "What d'ye think for a fresh woman like that?" he said to Max as Miss Meyerson's head once more bent over her books. 

 "She ain't fresh, Aaron," Max replied. "She's just got a heart, y'understand." 

 "But——" Aaron began. 

 "But nothing, Aaron," Max broke in. "I will wrap up the medicine and you will take it home with you. The girl knows what she is talking about, Aaron, and the best thing for you to do is to leave off  schnapps a little while and do what she says you should. I see on the bottle it's from Doctor Goldenreich. He's a specialitist from the chest and lungs, and I bet yer if you would go to him he would soak you ten dollars yet." 

 No argument could have appealed so strongly to Aaron as this did, and he thrust the bottle into his breast-pocket without another word. 

 "And how is Fillup coming on?" he asked. 

 "We couldn't complain," Max replied. "The boy is a good boy, Aaron. He is learning our line like he would be with us six months already." 

 "That's good," Aaron commented. "I bet yer before he would be here a month yet he would know the line as good as Sam and you." 

 Max smiled. 

 "I says the boy is a good boy, Aaron," he said, "but I never says he was a miracle, y'understand." 

 "That ain't no miracle, Max," Aaron retorted. "That's a prophecy." 

 Max smiled again, but the prediction more than justified itself in less than a month, for at the end of that time Philip knew the style-number and price of every garment in Zaretsky & Fatkin's 

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