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And mind you, Mawruss, Moe Griesman had just bought out Sam Green's competitors, Van Buskirk & Patterson. And Max Kirschner knows all the time that the only reason that we took on Mozart Rabiner was on account of his uncle, Moe Griesman."
Moe turned in the direction indicated by Abe, and his interested manner was not unnoticed by Mrs. Potash. "How is your dear wife and daughter, Mr. Griesman?" she asked significantly. "I suppose you missed 'em a whole lot." When Moe assured her that he did she sniffed so violently that it might have been taken for a snort.
"I anyhow told him he should advertise for one, as we are not running an employment agency here, Mawruss; and so, Mawruss, let's get busy on that order for Griesman. I want to get away from here sure at five o'clock to-day. What is the good I am staying down at Riesenberger's if I never get a show to take oncet in a while a sea bath, maybe?"
There was an intimate connection between Abe Potash's advent in the lobby of the Prince Clarence Hotel one hot summer day in June and the publication in that morning's Arrival of Buyers column of the following statement and news item: Griesman, M., Dry Goods Company, Syracuse; M. Griesman, ladies' and misses' cloaks, suits, waists, and furs; Prince Clarence Hotel.
His program was a little upset, however, by Abe's inquiry, which was not in the least ironical. "Loafer, where have you been?" Abe demanded. "What d'ye mean, loafer?" Morris cried. "I mean, while you are fooling away your time, Moe Griesman comes in here to see us and naturally he don't find none of us here; so he goes away again.
After Moe had taken Abe's hand in a limp clasp he nodded in the direction of the smoking room. "What d'ye think of them two suckers?" he croaked. "They ain't missed a meal since they came aboard." "What could you expect from a couple of tough propositions like that?" Abe replied. "Was you sick, Moe?" "Sick!" Griesman exclaimed.
Sam Green's face flushed in recollection of the phrase. "Never mind," he said fervently; "he's got anyhow a heart." "And I've got a stomach," Max Kirschner added irrelevantly. "At least, I've recovered one since I've been eating Leah Green's good cooking." Sam and Moe Griesman smiled sympathetically. "Well, what's the use wasting time here, boys?" Moe said at last.
These were destined to be the last words addressed to Morris by Sol Klinger in many a long day, for the moving incidents which awaited Morris's return to his showroom put an end to all friendship between him and Sol. Imprimis, when Morris entered, Moe Griesman was seated in the firm's private office, the centre of an animated group of four. "Hello, there, Mawruss!"
Griesman had transferred his account with Potash & Perlmutter to Sammet Brothers. Hence he regarded Abe's proffered hand coldly, and instead of rising to his feet he continued to puff at his cigar for a few moments. "I know your face," he said at length, "but your name ain't familiar." "Think again, Mr. Griesman," Abe said, quite unmoved by the rebuff. "Where did you seen me before?"
"One moment, Leon," Griesman interrupted; "if you bring that stuff under my nose here I would never buy from you a dollar's worth more goods so long as I live!" "The feller goes too far, Abe," he said, after Leon had cancelled the order and departed to drink his coffee in the smoking room. "The feller goes too far.
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