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Feigenbaum to the outer door, and as soon as it closed behind him the two partners faced each other. "What difference does it make, Abe?" Morris said. "A little hole and a little scratch don't amount to nothing." Abe gulped once or twice before he could enunciate. "It don't amount to nothing, Mawruss," he croaked. "Oh, no, it don't amount to nothing, but sixteen hundred and fifty dollars."
"Well, boys," he said genially, "you got to excuse me. I must be moving on." "Wait just a minute," Abe said. "I want you to look at something." He led Feigenbaum out of the office and down the passageway between the mahogany partitions. In front of the little cashier's window Abe stopped and pointed to the shelf and panel beneath. "Mr.
"Sam Green is an old customer from ours; and if Henry Feigenbaum gives for a couple of hundred dollars an order to Max Kirschner he only does it because he's got pity on the old man. And, anyhow, Mawruss, even if Sam Green is a little slow, y'understand, sooner or later we get our money ain't it?
Feigenbaum, I don't want to make no bluffs nor nothing, but believe me, the line of garments what we carry and the line of garments what H. Rifkin carried, there ain't no comparison. Merchandise what H. Rifkin got in his place as leaders already, I wouldn't give 'em junk room." Mr. Feigenbaum nodded.
"That's what I said," Abe went on. "He made it a big failure and skipped to the old country." "You don't tell me!" Feigenbaum said. "Why, I used to buy it all my goods from Rifkin." Abe leaned forward and placed his hand on Feigenbaum's knees. "I know it," he murmured, "and oncet you used to buy it all your goods from us, Mr. Feigenbaum. I assure you, Mr.
Feigenbaum," Abe said with less jocularity, "I didn't mean it no harm." Together they entered the elevator, and Abe created a diversion by handing Mr. Feigenbaum a large, black cigar with a wide red-and-gold band on it. While Feigenbaum was murmuring his thanks the elevator man stopped the car at the fifth floor. "Here we are!" Abe cried, and hustled out of the elevator ahead of Mr. Feigenbaum.
Mawruss is in the office, and he would be delighted, I know, to see you." He conducted his rediscovered customer to the office, where Morris was seated at the roll-top mahogany desk. "Ah, Mr. Feigenbaum," Morris cried, effusively seizing the newcomer by both hands, "ain't it a pleasure to see you again! Take a seat."
"You got a fine place here, Mawruss," he said. "Fixtures and everything A Number One, just like Rifkin's." "Better as Rifkin's," Morris declared. "Well, maybe it is better in quality," Feigenbaum admitted; "but, I mean, in arrangement and color it is just the same. Why, when I come in here with Abe, an hour ago, I assure you I thought I was in Rifkin's old place.
She said: "I have listened to all the speeches. I am one who thinks and feels from the things they describe. I, too, have worked and suffered. I am tired of the talking. I move that we go on a general strike." The meeting broke into wild applause. The motion was unanimously indorsed. The chairman, Mr. Feigenbaum, a Union officer, rapped on the table. "Do you mean faith?" he called to the workers.
Feigenbaum looked at Morris' glum countenance with secret enjoyment, but when he turned to Abe he was startled into an exclamation, for Abe's face was ashen and large beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. "What's the matter, Abe?" Feigenbaum cried. "Are you sick?" "My stummick," Abe murmured. "I'll be all right in a minute!" Feigenbaum took his hat and coat preparatory to leaving.
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