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Updated: August 8, 2024
"Well, we ain't so tony as all that," Morris commented. "We got it one or two garments, Mr. Pasinsky just one or two, y'understand which retails for ninety-nine dollars and ninety-eight cents, y'understand. So, naturally, you couldn't expect to sell the same class of trade for us as you sold it for B. Gans." "Naturally," Pasinsky agreed loftily, "but when a salesman is a salesman, Mr.
Marks Pasinsky sat down and fixed Abe with an incredulous smile. "A question!" he exclaimed. "Do I know him? Every afternoon, when I am in Chicago, Simon and me drinks coffee together." Abe and Morris looked at each other with glances of mixed wonder and delight. "I'll tell you another feller I'm intimate with, too," he said.
He turned away and fairly ran toward the rear of the loft, while Abe, now thoroughly mystified, returned to his place of business. "Well, Abe," Morris cried as his partner entered. "What for a reference did you get it from B. Gans?" "The reference is all right, Mawruss," Abe replied. "B. Gans says that Pasinsky is a good salesman and that the reason he left was by mutual consent."
"Why shouldn't I make him arrested?" he insisted. "He's a thief. He stole my samples." "Well, he stole my samples, too, oncet," B. Gans replied. "Come inside the café and I'll give you a little sad story what I got, too." A moment later they were seated at a marble-top table. "Yes, Abe," B. Gans went on after they had given the order, "Marks Pasinsky stole my samples, too.
Another day elapsed, but no further epistle came from Marks Pasinsky, and when the last mail arrived without any word from Chicago Morris grew worried. "Not even a weather report, Abe," he said. "If he couldn't sell no goods, Abe, at least he could write us a letter." "Maybe he's too busy, Mawruss," Abe suggested. "Busy taking assistant millinery buyers to lunch, Abe," Morris replied.
From six o'clock that evening until midnight he smoked so many sedative cigars and made so many fruitless inquiries at the desk for Marks Pasinsky, that his own nerves as well as the night clerk's were completely shattered. Before Abe retired he paid a farewell visit to the desk, and both he and the clerk gave vent to their emotions in a great deal of spirited profanity.
"But the way I feel about it," Marks Pasinsky went on, "is that if you advance my expenses for two weeks, understand me, and I go out with your sample line, understand me, if you don't owe me a thousand dollars commissions at the end of that time, then I don't want to work for you at all." Morris' jaw dropped and he wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead. "But who did you sell goods for?"
"I think I seen you oncet before already in Mandleberger Brothers & Co., in Chicago." "I presume you did," Marks Pasinsky replied. "Ed Mandleberger and me married cousins. That is to say, my wife's mother's sister is a sister-in-law to a brother of Ed Mandleberger's wife's mother." "Huh, huh," Abe murmured. "Do you know Simon Kuhner, buyer for their cloak department?"
Every afternoon he is playing with such sharks like Moe Rabiner and Marks Pasinsky, and if he ever got out of a job as designer he could go on the stage at one of them continual performances as a card juggler yet. A three-fifty hand is the least that feller deals himself." "One thing is sure, Abe, you couldn't never sell me no goods by knocking Hymie Salzman."
Gans asked. "I mean you gives me a good reference for this feller Marks Pasinsky," Abe shouted. "And even now I am on my way out for a policeman to make this here Pasinsky arrested." B. Gans whistled. He surrendered to a bell-boy the small valise he carried and clutched Abe's arm. "I wouldn't do that," he said. "Come inside the café and tell me all about it." Abe shook himself free.
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