Nevertheless, he hid his chagrin, and it was not long before the
familiar sign of Wasserbauer's Cafe and Restaurant warned Morris that
they had reached their destination. He assisted his companion to alight
and ushered her into the show-room.
"Just a minute, lady," he said, "and I'll bring Mr. Potash here."
"But," the lady protested, "I thought Mr. Lapidus was the gentleman who
had charge of it."
"_That's_ all right," Morris said, "you just wait and I'll bring Mr.
Potash here."
He took the stairs to the cutting-room three at a jump. "Abe," he cried,
"Miss Aaronson is downstairs."
Abe's face, which wore a worried frown, grew darker still as he regarded
his partner malevolently. "What's the matter with you, Mawruss?" he
said. "Can't you remember a simple name like Atkinson?"
"Atkinson!" Morris cried. "That's it--_Atkinson_. I've been trying to
remember it that name for four hours already. But, anyhow, she's
downstairs, Abe."
Abe rose from his task and made at once for the stairs, with Morris
following at his heels. In four strides he had reached the show-room,
but no sooner had he crossed the threshold than he started back
violently, thereby knocking the breath out of Morris, who was nearly
precipitated to the floor.
"Morris," he hissed, "who is that there lady?"
"Why," Morris answered, "that's Miss Aaronson--I mean Atkinson--ain't
it?"
"Atkinson!" Abe yelled. "That ain't Miss Atkinson."
"Then who _is_ she?" Morris asked.
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