Elkan Lubliner, American. Glass Montague
in his financial affairs. Moreover, she was distantly related to Elkan's father; and owing to this kinship her husband, Marx Feinermann, foreman for Kupferberg Brothers, was of the impression that she charged Elkan only three dollars and fifty cents a week. The underestimate more than paid Mrs. Feinermann's millinery bill, and she was consequently under the necessity of buying Elkan's silence with small items of laundry work and an occasional egg for breakfast. This arrangement suited Elkan very well indeed; and though he had eaten his lunch only an hour previously he thought it the part of prudence to insist that she prepare a meal for him, by way of maintaining his privileges as Mrs. Feinermann's fellow conspirator.
"But I am just now getting dressed to go uptown," she protested.
"Where to?" he demanded.
"I got a little shopping to do," she said; and Elkan snapped his fingers in the conception of a brilliant idea.
"Good!" he exclaimed. "I would go with you. In three minutes I would wash myself and change my clothes – and I'll be right with you."
"But I got to stop in and see Marx first," she insisted. "I want to tell him something."
"I wanted to tell him something lots of times already," Elkan said significantly; and Mrs. Feinermann sat down in the nearest chair while Elkan disappeared into the adjoining room and performed a hasty toilet.
"Schon gut," he said as he emerged from his room five minutes later; "we would go right up to Appenweier & Murray's."
"But I ain't said I am going up to Appenweier & Murray's," Mrs. Feinermann cried. "Such a high-price place I couldn't afford to deal with at all."
"I didn't say you could," Elkan replied; "but it don't do no harm to get yourself used to such places, on account might before long you could afford to deal there maybe."
"What d'ye mean I could afford to deal there before long?" Mrs. Feinermann inquired.
"I mean this," Elkan said, and they started down the stairs – "I mean, if things turn out like the way I want 'em to, instead of five dollars a week I would give you five dollars and fifty cents a week." Here he paused on the stair-landing to let the news sink in.
"And furthermore, if you would act the way I tell you to when we get up there I would also pay your carfare," he concluded – "one way."
When Mrs. Feinermann entered Appenweier & Murray's store that afternoon she was immediately accosted by a floorwalker.
"What do you wish, madam?" he said.
"I want to buy something a dress for my wife," Elkan volunteered, stepping from behind the shadow of Mrs. Feinermann, who for her thirty-odd years was, to say the least, buxom.
"Your wife?" the floorwalker repeated.
"Sure; why not?" Elkan replied. "Maybe I am looking young, but in reality I am old; so you should please show us the dress department, from twenty-two-fifty to twenty-eight dollars the garment."
The floorwalker ushered them into the elevator and they alighted at the second floor.
"Miss Holzmeyer!" the floorwalker cried; and in response there approached a lady of uncertain age but of no uncertain methods of salesmanship. She was garbed in a silk gown that might have graced the person of an Austrian grand duchess, and she rustled and swished as she walked toward them in what she had always found to be a most impressive manner.
"The lady wants to see some dresses," the floorwalker said; and Miss Holzmeyer smiled by a rather complicated process, in which her nose wrinkled until it drew up the corners of her mouth and made her eyes appear to rest like shoe-buttons on the tops of her powdered cheeks.
"This way, madam," she said as she swung her skirts round noisily.
"One moment," Elkan interrupted, for again he had been totally eclipsed by Mrs. Feinermann's bulky figure. "You ain't heard what my wife wants yet."
"Your wife!" Miss Holzmeyer exclaimed.
"Sure, my wife," Elkan replied calmly. "This is my wife if it's all the same to you and you ain't got no objections."
He gazed steadily at Miss Holzmeyer, who began to find her definite methods of salesmanship growing less definite, until she blushed vividly.
"Not at all," she said. "Step this way, please."
"Yes, Miss Holzmeyer," Elkan went on without moving, "as I was telling you, you ain't found out yet what my wife wants, on account a dress could be from twenty dollars the garment up to a hundred and fifty."
"We have dresses here as high as three hundred!" Miss Holzmeyer snapped. She had discerned that she was beginning to be embarrassed in the presence of this self-possessed benedick of youthful appearance, and she resented it accordingly.
"I ain't doubting it for a minute," Elkan replied. "New York is full of suckers, Miss Holzmeyer; but me and my wife is looking for something from twenty-two-fifty to twenty-eight dollars, Miss Holzmeyer."
Miss Holzmeyer's temper mounted with each repetition of her surname, and her final "Step this way, please!" was uttered in tones fairly tremulous with rage.
Elkan obeyed so leisurely that by the time Mrs. Feinermann and he had reached the rear of the showroom Miss Holzmeyer had hung three dresses on the back of a chair.
"H'allow me," Elkan said as he took the topmost gown by the shoulders and held it up in front of him. He shook out the folds and for more than five minutes examined it closely.
"I didn't want to see nothing for seventeen-fifty," he announced at last – "especially from last year's style."
"What do you mean?" Miss Holzmeyer cried angrily. "That dress is marked twenty-eight dollars and it just came in last week. It's a very smart model indeed."
"The model I don't know nothing about," Elkan replied, "but the salesman must of been pretty smart to stuck you folks like that."
He subjected another gown to a careful scrutiny while Miss Holzmeyer sought the showcases for more garments.
"Now, this one here," he said, "is better value. How much you are asking for this one, please?"
Miss Holzmeyer glanced at the price ticket.
"Twenty-eight dollars," she replied, with an indignant glare.
Elkan whistled incredulously.
"You don't tell me," he said. "I always heard it that the expenses is high uptown, but even if the walls was hung mit diamonds yet, Miss Holzmeyer, your bosses wouldn't starve neither. Do you got maybe a dress for twenty-eight dollars which it is worth, anyhow, twenty-five dollars?"
This last jibe was too much for Miss Holzmeyer.
"Mis-ter Lap-in!" she howled, and immediately a glazed mahogany door in an adjoining partition burst open and Max Lapin appeared on the floor of the showroom.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
Miss Holzmeyer sat down in the nearest chair and fanned herself with her pocket handkerchief.
"This man insulted me!" she said; whereat Max Lapin turned savagely to Elkan.
"What for you are insulting this lady?" he demanded as he made a rapid survey of Elkan's physical development. He was quite prepared to defend Miss Holzmeyer's honour in a fitting and manly fashion; but, during the few seconds that supervened his question, Max reflected that you can never tell about a small man.
"What d'ye mean insult this lady?" Elkan asked stoutly. "I never says a word to her. Maybe I ain't so long in the country as you are, but I got just so much respect for the old folks as anybody. Furthermore, she is showing me here garments which, honest, Mister – er – "
"Lapin," Max said.
"Mister Lapin, a house with the reputation of Appenweier & Murray shouldn't ought to got in stock at all."
"Say, lookyhere, young feller," Lapin cried, "what are you driving into anyway? I am buyer here, and if you got any kick coming tell it to me, and don't go insulting the salesladies."
"I ain't insulted no saleslady, Mr. Lapin," Elkan declared. "I am coming here to buy for my wife a