"Ersten, you offer him a month to rest his eyes, don't you?"

"I don't promise him I move!" bristled Ersten.

"We understand that," soothed Johnny, "all of us. Schnitt, you'll
take some of Mr. Ersten's work home with you from this place, won't
you?"

"Sure, I do that," consented Schnitt eagerly. "Louis, what is in the
shop?"

Ersten had a struggle of his own.

"All what was in when you left," he bravely confessed. "That coat
for Mrs. Follison gives me trouble for a week!"

"She's got funny shoulders," commented Schnitt with professional
impersonality. "It's the left one. You cut it--Let me see it."

There was a sibilant sound as of many suppressed sighs of relief
when Heinrich walked into the cutting room, but no man grinned or
gave more than a curt nod of greeting--for the forbidding eye of
Louis Ersten glared fiercely upon them. He strode across to the
table held sacred to himself and spread down a piece of cloth,
bounded by many curves. Heinrich Schnitt gave it but one
comprehensive glance.

"Na, na, na!" he shrilly commented. "Here it is wrong!" And,
grabbing up a slice of chalk, he made a deft swoop toward the