to Harold. "A little brandy always fixes him right up."
Her prediction proved true, for in a few minutes the tailor's eyes blinked open. He shook his head, like a dog emerging from water. He stood upright and was apparently as good as new.
"Just a little fainting spell," he explained to Harold. "It don't amount to nothing."
He resumed his measurements, his wife now having volunteered to write down the numbers as he called them out. Harold, meantime, holding the baby, was uncertain what to do with the wriggling infant. The tailor wanted to measure his arms and there was no place to deposit the youngest Hertz. With a flash of inspiration Harold placed the baby between his legs and lifted his arms triumphantly aloft to have the tape laid upon them.
When the tailor had quite finished, Harold was still uneasy about that fainting spell. How often did they afflict Morris Hertz and interfere with his work?
"There's no danger of not having my suit ready for the party, is there?" he asked the tailor.
"Don't worry, young man," returned that worthy impatiently. "It will be ready."
With this assurance the Freshman had to be satisfied. He left the dingy tailor shop
