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Updated: May 9, 2025
We couldn't even get dispossessed like some people does and save a month's rent oncet in a while maybe. The rooms ain't worth it, lady, believe me." "Does Max Linkheimer own this house?" Morris asked. "Sure, he's the landlord," Mrs. Schenkmann went on. "I am just telling you. For eight dollars a week a man should work! Ain't it a disgrace?" "Well, why doesn't he get another job?"
Even his collar had not escaped the flood, and as for his I. O. M. A. charm, it seemed positively tarnished. "Say, lookyhere, Potash," he began, "what d'ye mean by sending your partner to bail out that ganef?" "Me send my partner to bail out a ganef?" Abe exclaimed. "What are you talking, nonsense?" "I ain't talking nonsense," Linkheimer retorted. "Look at the kinds of conditions I am in.
For the third time Linkheimer nodded, and Abe turned to his partner. "What d'ye think of that feller?" he said, nodding his head in Linkheimer's direction. Morris shrugged, and Abe plunged his hands into his trousers pockets and glared at Linkheimer. "So, Linkheimer," he concluded, "you made a sucker out of yourself and out of me too! Ain't it?"
In point of fact the poor little Schenkmann child, with its blue-white complexion, looked more like a cold-storage chicken than a human baby, but to the maternal eye of Mrs. Schenkmann it represented the sum total of infantile beauty. "God bless you, mister," she said. "I seen you got a good heart, and if you know Max Linkheimer, he must told you why my husband couldn't get another job.
"I'm sorry, Abe," Linkheimer muttered, as he folded away the hundred-dollar bill in his wallet. "I bet yer he's sorry," Morris interrupted. "I would be sorry too if I would got a lawsuit on my hands like he's got it." "What d'ye mean?" Linkheimer cried. "I ain't got no lawsuit on my hands."
Abe hurriedly took off his hat and coat, and catching the bandaged thumb in the sleeve lining he swore long and loud. "Yes, I seen Max Linkheimer," he growled, "and I'm sick and tired of the whole business. Go ahead and get a shipping clerk, Mawruss. I'm through." "Why?" Morris asked.
"I wonder you got time to bother yourself breaking in a new beginner," Abe commented. Linkheimer waggled his head solemnly. "I can't help it, Abe," he said. "I let my business suffer, but nevertheless I'm constantly giving the helping hand to these poor inexperienced fellows. I assure you it costs me thousands of dollars in a year, but that's my nature, Abe. I'm all heart.
"I come down on the subway with Max Linkheimer this morning, Mawruss," Abe Potash said to his partner, Morris Perlmutter, as they sat in the showroom one hot July morning. "That feller is a regular philantropist." "I bet yer," Morris replied. "He would talk a tin ear on to you if you only give him a chance. Leon Sammet too, Abe, I assure you.
"Because he stole from Linkheimer a hundred dollars yesterday, Mawruss, and while I was there yet, Linkheimer finds it out. So naturally he makes this here feller arrested." "Yesterday, he stole a hundred dollars?" Morris interrupted. "Yesterday afternoon," Abe repeated. "With my own eyes I seen it the other money which he didn't stole."
"Well, if I would be in the button business, Abe, I would be a philantropist too. A feller's got to belong to eight lodges if he's in the button business, Abe, because otherwise he couldn't sell no goods at all." Abe continued: "Linkheimer ain't looking to sell goods to lodge brothers, Mawruss. He's too old established a business for that. He's got a heart too, Mawruss.
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