street last night and must got to go to a hospital! For years I am working for you already, day in, day out, without I am missing a single forenoon even—and you are treating me like this!" It was now Seiden's turn to gasp. "What d'ye mean?" he cried, searching in his coat pocket. "Ain't you wrote me this here letter?" He produced the missive received by him that morning and handed it to Sternsilver, who, unnoticed by the excited Seiden, returned it without even glancing at its contents. "I never seen it before," he declared. "Why should I write printing? Don't you suppose I can write writing, Mr. Seiden?" "Who did send it, then?" Seiden asked. "It looks to me"—said Sternsilver, who grew calmer as Seiden became more agitated—"it looks to me like that sucker Fatkin writes it." "What!" Seiden yelled. "And me I am paying him cash three hundred dollars he should marry that girl! Even a certified check he wouldn't accept." Although this information was not new to Sternsilver, to hear it thus at first hand seemed to infuriate him. "What!" he howled. "You are giving that greenhorn three hundred dollars yet to marry such a beautiful girl like my Bessie!" He buried his face in his hands and rocked to and fro in his chair. "Never mind, Sternsilver," Seiden said comfortingly; "you shouldn't take on so—she ain't so beautiful; and, as for that feller Fatkin——" "You are talking about me, Mr. Seiden?" said a voice in the doorway. Sternsilver looked up and once again Wedding Outfit Combination No. 6 conquered; for assuredly, had Fatkin been arrayed in his working clothes, he would have suffered a personal assault at the hands of his late foreman. "Mr. Seiden," Fatkin continued, "never mind; I could stand it somebody calls me names, but Mr. Latz wants to know what is become of you for the last quarter of an hour. Mr. Latz tells me during November alone he buys from us eight hundred dollars goods." "Us!" Seiden cried, employing three inflections to the monosyllable.
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