_ CHAPTER EIGHT. "R. S. V. P."
It was the tenth of the month, and Abe Potash, of Potash & Perlmutter, was going through the firm mail with an exploratory thumb and finger, looking for checks.
"Well, Mawruss," he said to his partner, Morris Perlmutter, "all them hightone customers of yours they don't take it so particular that they should pay on the day, Mawruss. If they was only so prompt with checks as they was to claim deductions, Mawruss, you and me would have no worries. I think some of 'em finds a shortage in the shipment before they open the packing-case that the goods come in. Take your friend Hyman Maimin, of Sarahcuse--nothing suits him. He always kicks that the goods ain't made up right, or we ain't sent him enough fancies, or something like that. Five or six letters he writes us, Mawruss, when he gets the goods; but when he got to pay for 'em, Mawruss, that's something else again. You might think postage stamps was solitaire diamonds, and that he dassen't use 'em!"
"Quit your kicking," Perlmutter broke in. "This is only the tenth of the month."
"I know it," said Abe. "We should have had a check by the tenth of last month, but"--here Abe's eye lit upon an envelope directed in the handwriting of Hyman Maimin--"I guess there was some good reason for the delay," he went on evenly. "Anyhow, here's a letter from him now."
He tore open the envelope and hurriedly removed the enclosed letter. Then he took the envelope, blew it wide open, and shook it up and down, but no check fell out.
"Did y'ever see the like?" he exclaimed. "Sends us a letter and no check!"
"Why, it ain't a letter," Morris said. "It's an advertisement."
Abe's face grew white.
"A meeting of creditors!" he gasped.
Morris grabbed the missive from his partner and spread it out on the table.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, a great smile of relief spreading itself about his ears. "It's a wedding invitation!" He held it up to the light. "'Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Bramson,'" he read, "'request the pleasure of Potash & Perlmutter's company at the marriage of their daughter Tillie to Mr. Hyman Maimin, Sunday, March 19, at seven o'clock, P.M., Wiedermayer's Hall, 2099 South Oswego Street. R.S.V.P. to residence of bride, care of Advance Credit Clothing Company, 2097 South Oswego Street.'"
"What is that 'R.S.V.P. to residence of bride'?" Abe Potash asked.
Morris reflected for a moment.
"That means," he said at length, "that we should know where to send the present to."
"How do you make that out?" said Abe.
"'R.S.V.P.'," Morris replied, emphasizing each letter with a motion of his hand, "means 'Remember to send vedding present.'"
"But," Abe rejoined, "when I went to night school, we spelt 'wedding' with a W."
"A greenhorn like Maimin," said Morris, "don't know no better."
"He knows enough to ask for a wedding present, Mawruss," Abe commented, "even if he don't know how to spell it. We'll send him a wedding present, Mawruss! We'll send him a summons from the court, that's what we'll send him!"
Morris shook his head.
"That ain't no way to talk, Abe," he said. "If a customer gets married, we
got to send him a wedding present. It don't cost much, and if Hyman Maimin gets a couple of thousand dollars with this Miss--Miss----"
"Advance Credit Clothing Company," Abe helped out.
Morris nodded.
"Then he buys more goods, ain't it?" he concluded.
"Let him pay for what he's got," Abe rejoined.
"It just slipped his mind. He'll pay up fast enough, after he gets married."
"All right! Wait till he pays up, and then we'll give him a present."
"Now lookyhere, Abe," Morris protested, "you can't be small in a matter of this kind. I'll draw a check for twenty-five dollars, and----"
"Twenty-five dollars!" Abe screamed. "You're crazy! When you was married last year, I'd like to know who gives you a present for twenty-five dollars?"
"Why you did, Abe," Morris replied.
"Me?" Abe cried. "Say, Mawruss, I want to tell you something. If you can buy a fine sterling silver bumbum dish, like what I give you, for twenty-five dollars, I'll take it off your hands for twenty-seven-fifty any day!"
"But, Abe----"
"Another thing, Mawruss," Abe went on. "If you don't like that dish, there ain't no law compelling you to keep it, you understand. Send it back. My Rosie can use it. Maybe we ain't so stylish like your Minnie, Mawruss; but if we don't have bumbums every day, we could put dill pickles into it!"
"One moment," Morris protested. "I ain't saying anything about that bumbum dish, Abe. All I meant that if you give
me such a high-price present when
I get married, that's all the more reason why we should give a high-price present to a customer what we will make money on. I ain't no customer, Abe."
"I know you ain't," said Abe. "You're only a partner, and I don't make no money on you, neither."
Morris shrugged his shoulders.
"What's the use of wasting more time about it, Abe?" he said. "Go ahead and buy a present."
"Me buy it?" Abe cried. "You know yourself, Mawruss, I ain't a success with presents. You draw the check and get your Minnie to buy it. She's an up-to-date woman, Mawruss, while my Rosie is a back number. She don't know nothing but to keep a good house, Mawruss. Sterling silver bumbum dishes she don't know, Mawruss. If I took her advice, you wouldn't got no bumbum dish. Nut-picks, Mawruss, from the five-and-ten-cent store, that's what you'd got. You might appreciate them, Mawruss; but a sterling silver----"
At this juncture Morris took refuge in the outer office, where Miss Cohen, the bookkeeper, was taking off her wraps.
"Miss Cohen," he said, "draw a check for twenty-five dollars to bearer, and enter it up as a gratification to Hyman Maimin."
At dinner that evening Morris handed the check over to his wife.
"Here Minnie," he said, "Abe wants you should buy a wedding present for a customer."
"What kind of a wedding present?" Mrs. Perlmutter asked.
"Something in solid sterling silver, like that bumbum dish what Abe gave us."
"But, Mawruss," she protested, "you know we got that bonbon dish locked away in the sideboard, and we never take it out. Let's give 'em something useful."
"Suit yourself," Morris replied. "Only don't bother me about it."
"All right," Mrs. Perlmutter said. "Leave me the name and address, and I'll see that they send it direct from the store. I'll put one of your cards inside."
"And another thing," Morris concluded. "See that you don't hold nothing out on us by way of commission."
Mrs. Perlmutter smiled serenely.
"I won't," she said, in dulcet tones.
* * * * *
It was the fourth day after Potash & Perlmutter's receipt of the wedding invitation. When Morris Perlmutter entered the private office he found Abe Potash in the absorbed perusal of the
Daily Cloak and Suit Record. Abe looked up and saluted his partner with a malignant grin.
"Well, Mawruss," he said, "I suppose you sent that present to Hyman Maimin?"
"I sent it off long since already," Morris replied.
"I hope it was a nice one, Mawruss," Abe went on "I hope it was a real nice one. I'm sorry now, Mawruss, we didn't spend fifty dollars. That would have made it an even seven hundred, instead of only six hundred and seventy-five, that Hyman Maimin owed us."
"What d'ye mean?" cried Morris.
"I don't mean nothing, Mawruss--nothing at all," Abe said, with ironical emphasis. He handed the paper to Morris. "Here, look for yourself!"
He pointed with a trembling forefinger at the "business-troubles" column, and Morris's eyes seemed to bulge out of his head as he scanned the printed page:
A petition in bankruptcy was filed late yesterday afternoon against Hyman Maimin, 83 West Tonawanda Street, Syracuse. It is claimed that he transferred assets to the amount of eight thousand dollars last week. Mr. Maimin says that he has been doing business at a heavy loss of late, but that he hopes to be able to resume. A settlement of thirty cents is proposed.
Morris sat down in a revolving-chair too crushed for comment, and drummed with a lead pencil on the desk.
"I wonder if he done up his intended father-in-law, too?" he said at length.
"No fear of that, Mawruss," Abe replied. "He ain't no sucker like us, Mawruss. I bet you his father-in-law--what's his name----"
"The Advance Credit Clothing Company," Morris suggested.
"Sure," Abe went on. "I bet you this clothing concern says to him: 'If you want to marry my daughter, you gotter go into bankruptcy first. Then, when you're all cleaned up, I'll give you a couple of thousand dollars to start as a new beginner in another line.' Ain't it?"
Morris nodded gloomily.
"No, Mawruss," Abe continued. "I bet you his father-in-law is a big crook like himself."
He rose to his feet and opened the large green-and-red covered book furnished by the commercial agency to which they subscribed.
"I'm going to do now, Mawruss, what you should have done before you sent that present," he said. "I'm going to look up this here Advance Credit Clothing Company. I bet you he ain't even in the book--what?"
Before Morris could reply, the letter-carrier entered with the morning mail. While Abe continued to run his thumb down the columns of the commercial agency book, Morris began to open the envelopes. Both their heads were bent over their tasks, when an exclamation arose simultaneously from each.
"Now, what d'ye think of that?" said Abe.
"Did y' ever see anything like it?" Morris cried.
"What is it?" Abe asked.
For answer, Morris thrust a letter into his partner's hand. It was headed, "The Advance Credit Clothing Company--Marcus Bramson, Proprietor," and read as follows:
MESSRS. POTASH & PERLMUTTER.
GENTS:
Your shipment of the 5th is to hand, and in reply would say
that we are returning it via Blue Line on account Miss Tillie
Bramson's engagement is broken. We understand that lowlife
H. Maimin got into you for six hundred and fifty dollars. Believe
me, he done us for more than that. Our Mr. Bramson will be in
New York shortly, and will call to look at your line. Hoping we
will be able to do business with you,
Yours truly,
THE ADVANCE CREDIT CLOTHING COMPANY,
Per T. B.
Abe Potash laid down the letter with a sigh, while his thumb still rested caressingly on the open page of the mercantile agency book.
"So he's going to send back the present!" he said. "That man Marcus Bramson, proprietor, has a big heart, Mawruss. He's a man with fine feelings and a fine disposition, Mawruss. He's got a fine rating too, Mawruss--seventy-five to a hundred thousand, first credit!" He closed the book almost lovingly. "D'ye think they would give the money back for that present, Mawruss?"
"I don't know," said Morris. "Minnie bought it, and she told me it was a big bargain. It was a sale, she said, but I guess they'll take it back."
"What did it look like?" Abe said.
"I didn't see it," Morris replied. "They sent it direct from the store, but I took Minnie's word for it. She said it was fine value."
"And Minnie," Abe concluded, "is a fine, up-to-date woman."
* * * * *
Two days later, Abe Potash spotted the name of Marcus Bramson in the "Arrival of Buyers" column of a morning newspaper.
"Mawruss," he cried, "he's come!"
"Who's come?" Morris asked.
"Marcus Bramson," Abe replied, reaching for his hat. "I'm going over to the Bingler House now to meet him. You wait here till I come back. I bet you we sell him a big bill of goods!"
As Abe went out of the store by the front door, an expressman, bearing a square wooden box, entered the rear alley. He brought the package straight to Miss Cohen, who signed a receipt, and summoned Mr. Perlmutter. Morris proceeded to pry off the cover.
"This is something what Mrs. Perlmutter bought for Hyman Maimin's wedding present," he explained. "I ain't never seen it yet."
He pulled out a number of wads of tissue paper. When he finally reached a piece of silverware, he turned the box upside down and shook out the remainder of its contents upon a sample table.
"Oh, Mr. Perlmutter," Mist Cohen exclaimed, clasping her hands, "what a beautiful bonbon dish! What a lovely wedding present!"
Morris looked at the bonbon dish, and beads of perspiration started on his forehead.
"Ain't Mrs. Perlmutter got good taste!" Miss Cohen went on enthusiastically.
Morris said nothing, but picked up the silver dish. Examining the polished centre carefully, he discerned the indistinct initials "M. P." almost but not quite effaced by buffing. Undoubtedly it was the same bonbon dish.
He gathered up the tissue paper and carefully arranged it in the box as a bed for the silver dish. Then he put the cover on, and nailed it down.
"Ain't you going to let Mr. Potash see it?" Miss Cohen asked. "He ain't never seen it before, neither, has he?"
Morris frowned.
"I think he has," he replied. "Anyhow, I'm going to send it right uptown by messenger boy."
"Do you think they'll exchange it?" Miss Cohen inquired.
"Oh, I guess it will be put back in stock all right," said Morris, turning away.
* * * * *
The next morning, when Morris entered the store, Abe was busy figuring on the back of a torn envelope.
"Hello, Mawruss!" he cried, looking up. "Ain't it beautiful weather?"
Morris agreed that it was.
"That Mr. Bramson," Abe went on, "that's one fine gentleman, Mawruss. He ain't what you'd call a close buyer, neither, Mawruss."
"No?" Morris commented.
"The way I figure it," Abe continued, "reckoning on what we lost by Hyman Maimin, if he settles for thirty cents, and what we make out of Mr. Bramson's first order, we come out even to the dollar!"
"So?" Morris murmured.
"All excepting that wedding present, Mawruss," Abe. "By the way, Mawruss, ain't that wedding present come back yet?"
"Why, sure," said Morris. "It come back yesterday, when you were out."
"Why ain't you showed it to me? Ain't I got no right to see it, Mawruss?"
"Of course you got a right to see it," Morris assented, "but I thought I'd get it right up town to Minnie and have it exchanged."
"And did she exchange it?" Abe asked.
"Well, it's like this," Morris explained. "Minnie liked it so well that she decided on keeping it, so I'll give the firm my personal check for twenty-five dollars."
Abe puffed hard on his cigar.
"You're a purty generous feller, Mawruss," he commented, "to give Minnie a present like that--for nothing at all, ain't it?"
"Oh, no, I ain't Abe," Morris replied. "I ain't giving it to her for nothing at all. I'm taking it out of her housekeeping money, Abe--five dollars a month!" _