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"If anyone gives me diamonds that I should take care of it into the safe they go. I ain't a person what sticks diamonds all over myself, Abe, and I don't buy no tchampanyer wine one day and come around trying to lend it from people a thousand dollars the next day, Abe."
Last month I seen it he gets stung two thousand by Cohen & Schondorf, and to-day he's chief mourner by the Ready Pay Store, Barnet Fischman proprietor. Barney stuck him for fifteen hundred, Mawruss, so I guess he needs it tchampanyer wine to cheer him up." "Well, maybe he needs it diamonds to cheer him up, also, Abe," Morris added.
"Well, in a whole lot of ways, Max," Abe continued, after they were seated; "and mind you, I know it ain't none of my business, Max, but when I see that boy come into Hammersmith's to-day and eat for five dollars a lunch, with a bottle of tchampanyer wine yet, Max, I couldn't help myself. I got to say something." Max scowled and spat out the end of his cigar.
Twenty years since already I used to eat by Gifkin's on Canal Street, and one day Max Koblin comes in and says to me, 'Abe, he says, 'I want you should drink a bottle tchampanyer wine on me. In them days Max works for old man Zudosky selling boys' reefers. Raincoats was like oitermobiles; no one had discovered 'em yet. 'What's the matter, Max? I says.
His face possessed an unusual pallor and he clenched an unlighted cigar between his teeth. "What is it?" Morris asked. "Don't you feel good?" "I am feeling fine, Mawruss," he replied huskily. "I could blow myself to a bottle tchampanyer wine yet, I feel so good.
"Well, Abe, maybe you think that's a joke you should keep me here a couple of hours already," Morris said. "Many a time I got to say that to you already, Mawruss," Abe rejoined. "But, anyhow, I didn't eat it so much, Mawruss. It was Hymie Kotzen what keeps me." "Hymie Kotzen!" Morris cried. "What for should he keep you, Abe? Blows you to some tchampanyer wine, maybe?"
"Yes, Mawruss," Abe said with cutting emphasis: "good cigars don't care who smokes 'em. I suppose if Nathan, the shipping clerk, would come in here with a collar and tie on and a clean shave, you would want to blow him to a bottle of tchampanyer wine yet. Just because a feller shaves off his beard and buys himself a new suit of clothes you couldn't recognize him at all.
"Tchampanyer he ain't drinking it to-day, Mawruss, I bet yer," Abe replied. "He wants to lend it from us a thousand dollars." Morris laughed raucously. "What a chance!" he said. "Till the first of the month, Mawruss," Abe continued, "and I thought maybe we would let him have it." Morris ceased laughing and glared at Abe. "Tchampanyer you must have been drinking it, Abe," he commented.
"It was my wife's birthday," Hymie explained; "and if I got to spend it my last cent, Mawruss, I always buy tchampanyer on my wife's birthday." "All right, Hymie," Morris retorted; "if you think it so much of your wife, lend it from her a thousand dollars." "Make an end, make an end," Abe cried; "I hear it enough already.
Furthermore, Abe, if Sammet Brothers sends a drinker like Hymie Salzman to Paris, Abe, they got a right to spend their money the way they want to; but all I got to say is that we shouldn't be afraid they would cop out any of our trade on that account, Abe. Hymie would come home with new idees of tchampanyer wine and not garments, Abe."
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