Elkan Lubliner, American. Glass Montague

with a broad grin on his face and pointed to the cutting room, where stood Elkan Lubliner. In the boy's right hand was clutched a pair of cutter's shears, and guided by chalked lines he was laboriously slicing up a roll of sample paper.

      "Ain't he a picture?" Marcus exclaimed.

      "A picture!" Philip repeated. "What d'ye mean a picture?"

      "Why, the way he stands there with them shears, Philip," Marcus replied. "He's really what you could call a born cutter if ever there was one."

      "A cutter!" Philip cried.

      "Sure," Marcus went on. "It's never too soon for a young feller to learn all sides of his trade, Philip. He's been long enough on the stock. Now he should learn to be a cutter, and I bet yer in six months' time yet he would be just so good a cutter as anybody."

      Philip was too dazed to make any comment before Marcus obtained a fresh start.

      "A smart boy like him, Philip, learns awful quick," he said. "Ain't it funny how blood shows up? Now you take a boy like him which he comes from decent, respectable family, Philip, and he's got real gumption. I think I told you his grandfather on his father's side was a big rabbi, the Lubliner Rav."

      Philip nodded.

      "And even if I didn't told you," Marcus went on, "you could tell it from his face."

      Again Philip nodded.

      "And another thing I want to talk to you about," Marcus said, hastening after him: "the hundred dollars the boy gives you you should keep, Philip. And if you are spending more than that on the boy I would make it good."

      Philip dug down absently into his trousers pocket and brought forth the roll of dirty bills.

      "Take it," he said, throwing it toward his partner. "I don't want it."

      "What d'ye mean you don't want it?" Marcus cried.

      "I mean I ain't got no hard feelings against the boy," Philip replied. "I am thinking it over all night, and I come to the conclusion so long as I started in being the boy's uncle I would continue that way. So you should put the money in the savings bank like I says yesterday."

      "But——" Marcus protested.

      "But nothing," Philip interrupted. "Do what I am telling you."

      Marcus blinked hard and cleared his throat with a great, rasping noise.

      "After all," he said huskily, "it don't make no difference how many crooks oder Ganevim is in a feller's family, Philip, so long as he's got a good, straight business man for a partner."