"A couple more of them
quincidences, Mawruss, and we got to pay double for our insurance. I
only wish we would be finished collecting on our policies for this here
quincidence, Mawruss."
Morris shrugged his shoulders and was about to make a reassuring answer
when the door opened and two men entered.
One of them was Samuel Feder, vice-president of the Kosciusko Bank, and
the other was Louis Feinholz, proprietor of the Longchamps Store.
"Well, Abe," Feder cried, "what's this I hear about the fire?"
"Come into the office, Mr. Feder," Abe cried, while Morris greeted
Feinholz. "Morris will be through soon."
"Say, Mawruss," Feinholz said. "What's the matter with you boys? Here I
got to come downtown about them capes, and my whole store's full of
people. Why didn't you ship them capes back to me like I told you?"
"Look a-here, Feinholz," Morris exclaimed in tones sufficiently loud for
Feder to overhear, "what d'ye take us for, anyhow? Greenhorns? Do you
think you can write us a dirty letter like that and then come down and
get them capes just for the asking?"
"Ain't you getting touchy all of a sudden, Mawruss?" Feinholz cried
excitedly. "You had no business to deliver them goods in such rotten
weather. You know as well as I do that I couldn't use them goods till
fine weather sets in, and now I want 'em, and I want 'em bad."
"Is that so?" Morris replied. "Why, I thought them garments was no good,
Feinholz. I thought them capes wasn't up to sample.
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