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If you are telling me oncet you are telling me a hundred times about an Italiener family which they are living on top of you, Mawruss, and, to hear you talk, such Roshoyim you wouldn't believe existed at all." "Sure, I know," Morris admitted, "but there's Italieners and Italieners, Abe; and only last night them people sits up till two o'clock this morning shikkering and hollering.
"Gewiss, Mawruss," Abe cried; "but I seen the back of the fiddle, Mawruss, and if the varnish on it was made from rubies, Mawruss, I would eat it. The fiddle was an ordinary fiddle like any other fiddle; only one thing I see, Mawruss on the inside is a little piece from paper, y'understand, and printed on it is the name from some Italiener or another, with some figures on it.
I am coming up in the elevator last night with her husband and a friend, and the way they are talking to each other it sounds like a couple of bushelers in a factory. I tell you the honest truth, Abe, for me it don't make no difference if a feller would be a Frencher oder an Irishman, so long as he treats me white I would be a good feller, Abe; but an Italiener, Abe, is something else again.
"Sure, I know," Morris replied, "and he don't smoke and he don't shikker, and he tells me yesterday he boards with a family on Second Avenue which all it costs him is four dollars a week. And yet you, Abe, you are kicking because the feller is an Italiener." "When was I kicking to you the feller is an Italiener?" Abe demanded. "Why, you yourself, Mawruss, always says to me Italieners is no good.
Morris asked. "Nothing at all, Mawruss. Senft is crazy. He gets a prejudice against the feller all of a sudden on account he's an Italiener." "Italiener!" Morris cried. "Sure," Harry replied. "Did you ever hear the like, Mawruss, that a man like Senft, which his folks oser come over in the Mayflower neither, y'understand, should kick on account a feller is an Italiener?
"Mawruss," he said slowly, "do you mean to told me you are hiring for a designer an Italiener?" "Sure," Morris replied; "why not?" "Why not!" Abe bellowed. "Why not! Ain't you and me married men? Ain't we got wives? Ain't you got a child to support as well?" "What's that got to do with it?" Morris asked. "What's that got to do with it?" Abe repeated.
Italieners is decent, respectable people like anybody else, Abe, and just because when you are going on the opera a couple Italieners stabs themselves, like I am seeing it last week a show by the name Paliatzki, y'understand, that ain't no sign every Italiener is a stabber, understand me.
"Never mind, supposing they wouldn't be stabbers even, Mawruss," he continued, "if you got working for you an Italiener which you just broke in good, y'understand, so soon as he saves a couple hundred dollars he right away quits you and goes back to the old country.
"He is giving his money to an Italiener which he calls himself a banker, Mr. Perlmutter; and to-day when he is going there to get him money the feller's store is locked. Nobody knows where he went to at all. The clerks also is gone." "Is that right, Henry?" Morris asked. Enrico nodded his head without removing his hands from his hair.
"Maybe you could jolly a duck not to swim in the water, Mawruss," he cried bitterly. "That's all right, Abe," Morris retorted. "A duck ain't got no use for a couple of hundred dollars bonus." "A couple of hundred dollars bonus!" Abe yelled. "Do you mean to say you would offer that Italiener a bonus?" "Sure; why not?" Morris asked. "Ain't he a good designer, Abe?"
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