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Updated: October 15, 2025
Leon looked at Aaron Kronberg, who was gulping convulsively in an effort to express adequately all he felt. At length he commenced to address his uncle in husky tones. "You cut-throat!" he croaked. "You robber, you! You shed my blood! Give me back my seven hundred and fifty dollars." "Your seven hundred and fifty!" Uncle Mosha exclaimed. "That's what I said," Aaron went on.
He goes to work and sends Elkan's boy, Aaron, to business college, and Elkan's widow he takes to live with Hillel's widow, all together with himself and the two boys in that house of his on Madison Street. For three years they lived that way, and in the rest of the house Mosha couldn't keep any tenants at all.
Ain't I right, Alex?" Alex nodded. "Come on, Uncle Mosha," he said. "Come inside with us and see this through." "I'll wait out here," Uncle Mosha replied. "I got enough excitement for one afternoon." He waited until Mr.
"Much obliged, Alex," he said. "That's all right," Alex mumbled as he struck a match. "How do you feel now, uncle?" "First rate," Uncle Mosha replied as he blew out great clouds of smoke; "although I ought to feel a whole lot worse, Alex, when I see Maxie Gershon here. Twenty-five years ago I seen him last and he looks the same fat-faced feller with the black eyes.
I told 'em time enough when I would die, Gott soll hüten." "What are you talking nonsense, Uncle Mosha?" Aaron broke in. "You ain't going to die for a long time yet; and anyhow, Uncle Mosha, if people goes to work and has children which they couldn't support while they are living even, why should they get any of your money to support 'em after you are dead?
"My trouble's what you got to stay here for," Uncle Mosha retorted. "Yes, boys; what d'ye think for a highwayman like that Aaron Kronberg?" Aaron blushed a fiery red. "Come on, Leon," he said. "Let's get out of this." "Hold on!" Max Gershon shouted. "Don't you do nothing of the kind, Sammet. Me and Mr.
"All right," Uncle Mosha said; "I ain't scared of 'em. I owned the house since 1890 already that's pretty near twenty years, and I ain't paid no Confederate money for it neither." Mr. Jones cleared his throat noisily, and as he did so a round white object leaped from beneath his collar and bumped against his chin. It was his Adam's apple.
After the latter had turned the corner of Pike Street, Uncle Mosha lingered to take the morning air. A fresh breeze from the southwest brought with it a faint odour of salt herring and onions from the grocery store next door, while from the bakery across the street came the fragrant evidence of a large batch of Kümmel brod.
Prior to leaving his office Leon had cashed Aaron Kronberg's check for seven hundred and fifty dollars, and the money, in bills of large denomination, was turned over to Mosha Kronberg, who tucked them carefully away in his breast pocket. "Well, Aaron," he said after the operation was completed, "I guess I'll be going back to Madison Street." "Wait; I'll go along with you," Aaron cried.
I'm going to get Leon Sammet to give you not forty thousand or forty-two two-fifty neither. I'm going to get Leon Sammet to give you forty-three thousand for the house, uncle, but I only do it on one condition, uncle." "And what is that?" Uncle Mosha asked.
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