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"That Tom Evans, the Welsh coal-miner, is Hyman Feinsilver what worked by us, and the way he treated that poor Eyetalian young feller was a shame for the people. It makes me sick to think of it." "Don't think of it, then," Abe replied, "because it won't do you no good, Mawruss.
A moment later the door opened, and Isaac Feinsilver entered, immaculately clothed in a suit of zebra-like design. He proceeded to the bookkeeper's office and kissed the blushing bride; then he repaired to the sample room. "Good morning, Mawruss! Good morning, Abe!" he said briskly. "Ain't it a fine weather?" He threw a bundle of swatches upon the sample table.
Abe asked. "Well, you remember Hyman Feinsilver, what worked by us as a shipping clerk while Jake was sick?" "Sure I do," Abe replied. "Comes from very decent, respectable people in the old country. His father was a rabbi." "Don't make no difference about his father, Abe," Morris went on.
"You mean," he said at length, "that Ike Feinsilver, of the Hamsuckett Mills, is going to marry Miss Cohen?" "You guessed it right, Abe," Morris replied. "And who fixed it up?" said Abe. Morris slapped his chest proudly. "I did," he replied. Abe smoked on in silence. "I suppose I must congratulate her, Mawruss?" he said at length, starting to rise. "There's no hurry," said Morris.
He found that Morris had already arrived. "Well, Mawruss," he said in greeting, "everything went off splendid for Feinsilver. Max Cohen came down with a certified check for five thousand dollars, you and me got rid of about over a hundred, counting the wedding-present and our wives' dresses, and Miss Cohen got a husband and a lot of cut glass, while me I got a headache!" Morris grunted.
Abe cried. Morris nodded in the direction of the office. "Because we got one," he replied. Abe turned toward the little glass enclosure. He gasped in amazement, and nearly swallowed the stump of his cigar, for at the old stand, industriously applying herself to the books of Potash & Perlmutter, sat Mrs. Isaac Feinsilver, née Cohen.
Well, Plotkin with his two thousand and Goldner with his two thousand, they start in together as new beginners. They gets the selling agency for the Hamsuckett people, and then they makes big money and buys them out. To-day Goldner & Plotkin is rich men, and all because they got married right!" Feinsilver listened with parted lips.
"Sometimes, Mawruss," he concluded solemnly, "they gets a good, big souse, Mawruss, where they least expect it." Ike Feinsilver, city salesman for the Hamsuckett Mills Goldner & Plotkin, proprietors was obviously his own ideal of a well-dressed man. His shirts and waistcoats represented a taste as original as it was not subdued; but it was in the selection of his neckties that he really excelled.
Morris smiled in a superior way. "Abe," he said, "you ain't got no eyes in your head. Ain't you noticed that ring on Miss Cohen's left hand?" Abe stared in astonishment. "It's a beauty, Abe," Morris went on. "A bright young feller like Ike Feinsilver don't get stuck, no matter what he buys. He got it through Plotkin's cousin down on Maiden Lane." Abe sat down to ponder over the news.
He gathered force as he proceeded. "Fools!" he continued in a rapid crescendo. "Meddlers! You spill my blood! You ruin me! I'm a millionaire, you tell Feinsilver. I've got nothing to do with my money but that I should throw it away in the street!" "Mister Cohen," Morris protested, "you'll make yourself sick." "I'll make you sick!" Cohen rejoined. "I'll make for you a blue eye, too.
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