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Updated: July 6, 2025
Only, we are out twenty-five hundred dollars. That's all." "No, we ain't, Mawruss," Abe protested. "What we are out in one way we make in another." Morris sought to control himself, but his pent-up emotions gave themselves vent. "We do, hey?" he roared. "Well, maybe you think because I took your fool advice this oncet that I'll do it again?" He grew red in the face. "Gambler!" he yelled. "Fool!
"The table is all right; I ain't kicking about the table, y'understand, but the class of people which they stay in the house, Mawruss, is pretty schlecht. My Rosie couldn't get along with 'em at all." "You don't tell me!" Morris replied. "Riesenberger's is got a big reputation, Abe, and when me and Minnie stayed there two years ago there was an elegant class of people stopping in the house.
"Well, Mawruss," Abe cried as he greeted his partner on Monday morning, "how did it went?" "How did what went?" Morris asked. "The prize-fighting." Morris shook his head. "Not for all the cloak and suit trade on the Pacific slope," he said finally, "would I go to one of them things again.
"I could stand it if it stood me in three hundred dollars, so long as I could stop Marks Pasinsky making another town." He rose to his feet with surprising alacrity for a rheumatic patient, and returned to his office, where no communication had been received from Marks Pasinsky. "That settles it, Mawruss," Abe said as he jammed his hat farther down on his head. "Where are you going now?"
"I wonder if he done up his intended father-in-law, too?" he said at length. "No fear of that, Mawruss," Abe replied. "He ain't no sucker like us, Mawruss. I bet you his father-in-law what's his name " "The Advance Credit Clothing Company," Morris suggested. "Sure," Abe went on. "I bet you this clothing concern says to him: 'If you want to marry my daughter, you gotter go into bankruptcy first.
"My tzuris if he does, Mawruss," he said; "because while I don't know nothing about this here game, y'understand, a good way to lose a customer is to play cards with him." "What are you talking nonsense, Abe?" Morris cried. "Shello ain't cards. A shello is a fiddle which you play it with your knees." "For my part he could play it with his nose, Mawruss," Abe declared hotly.
Once he discounted his bill." "Is that so?" Abe said, as they reached the front of Potash & Perlmutter's store. "Glad to hear M. Garfunkel is so busy. Good-morning, Max." Morris Perlmutter met him at the door. "Hallo, Abe," he cried. "What's the matter? You look pale. Is Rosie worse?" Abe shook his head. "Mawruss," he said, "did you ship them goods to M. Garfunkel yet?"
I mean a designer. I hired a designer, Abe, a first-class feller." "What d'ye mean, a first-class feller?" Abe demanded. "You are leaving here last night half-past six, and here it is only eight o'clock next morning and already you hired a designer which he is a first-class feller. How do you know he is a first-class feller, Mawruss? Did you dream it?"
"What's the use asking me hypocritical questions, Rashkin?" Abe replied. "Mawruss would no more touch it as I would. You don't know what a crank I got it for a partner, Rashkin. If I would just hint that I wanted to buy real estate, y'understand, that feller would go all up in the air.
Burglars could bust into his loft and steal his silk piece goods on him; he could have maybe a fire; he could fall down the elevator shaft and break, Gott soll hüten, his neck. All these things could come to a garment manufacturer, Mawruss; but that his designer should turn out some good styles is an accident which don't happen to one garment manufacturer out of a hundred, Mawruss."
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