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"Well, Aaron," Uncle Mosha rejoined, "as old man Baum used to say, we all got to die sooner or later, Aaron; and all we could take with us is our good name." "You wouldn't got to pay no excess baggage rates on that," Aaron said as the carriage came to a stop in front of Feldman's office building.
Ten minutes later Marks left with a written memorandum of the terms of sale on his person while Morris pocketed a similar memorandum and fifty dollars earnest money. The next morning an executory contract of sale was signed in Henry D. Feldman's office, and precisely two weeks later Mr.
What's more, Abe, I'm going to get Feinstein on the 'phone right away and find out who did buy 'em." He went to the telephone immediately and rang up Henry D. Feldman's office. "Hallo, Mr. Feinstein," he said, after the connection had been made. "This is Mawruss Perlmutter, of Potash & Perlmutter. You know them fixtures what H. Rifkin had it?" "I sure do," Feinstein replied.
"You'll have a corpse on your hands in an hour," Feldman insisted. "I know space-stomach, damn it." The kid turned back to his lottery sheet. "Go treat yourself if you wanta play doctor. Go on, scram before I toss you out in the snow!" One of Feldman's white-knuckled hands reached for the attendant. Then he caught himself. He started to turn back, hesitated, and finally faced the kid again.
She identified Feldman as having been a doctor, without stipulating any change in status. She made no further report to any authority concerning Daniel Feldman's presence here. It seems obvious that Medical Lobby at Southport thereby accepted Daniel Feldman as a doctor in good standing for whose conduct the Lobby accepted full responsibility." Wilson studied the book Jake held out, and nodded.
"And now let's get him in here and we'll all go down to Henry D. Feldman's office and fix the matter up." Two hours later Leon and Uncle Mosha had signed a contract for the sale of the Madison Street house, title to be closed and deed to be delivered within thirty days.
It was there when Morris left to keep his appointment at Henry D. Feldman's office, and when he returned four hours later the malice, if anything, had intensified. "Well, Mawruss," Abe cried, "I suppose you fixed it all up?" "It don't go so quick, Abe," Morris replied.
He hustled the old man into a decrepit conveyance that was drawn up to the curb and they started immediately for Henry D. Feldman's office. "Honest, Aaron," Uncle Mosha sighed, "I feel like I was riding to my own funeral." "Don't worry, Uncle Mosha," Aaron said; "with the tzuris which I got it lately you would quicker ride to mine."
He glanced at the kid, then toward Feldman, his face a mixture of speculation and dislike. He took a dollar bill from the wallet. "That's right," he admitted. "The fee for reporting a solvent case. Medical Lobby rules apply even to a man who breaks them." The kid's hand was out, but the doctor dropped the dollar onto Feldman's cot. "There's your fee, pariah."
"Where was I?" Uncle Mosha replied. "Why, I was where I was. That's where I was. What difference does it make to you where I was?" "What difference does it make to me?" Aaron cried. "Ain't I putting up the er don't you know you was due at Henry D. Feldman's office to close your title at one o'clock? and here it is half-past one already!" For a minute Uncle Mosha's face fell.
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