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Feinstein pulled his hat over his eyes and, resting his cigar on the top of Rifkin's desk with the lighted end next to the wood, he drew Abe toward the rear of the office. "Leave that to me," he said mysteriously.
She knew from his taut expression that he was not listening to Aunt Bessie but herding his own thoughts, and that he would interrupt her bluntly. He did: "Will, where c'n I get an extra pair of pants for this coat and vest? D' want to pay too much." "Well, guess Nat Hicks could make you up a pair. But if I were you, I'd drop into Ike Rifkin's his prices are lower than the Bon Ton's." "Humph.
In fact, I could almost swear this desk is the same desk what Rifkin had it." He rose to his feet and passed his hand over the top of the desk with the touch of a connoisseur. "No," he said at last. "It ain't the same as Rifkin's. Rifkin's desk was a fine piece of Costa Rica mahogany without a flaw. I used to be in the furniture business oncet, you know, Mawruss, and so I can tell."
He walked to the westerly end of the hall, only to find that the staircase was at the extreme easterly end, and as he retraced his footsteps a young man whom he recognized as a clerk in the office of Henry D. Feldman, the prominent cloak and suit attorney, was pasting a large sheet of paper on H. Rifkin's door. HENRY D. FELDMAN Attorney for Petitioning Creditors
"What d'ye mean?" Morris exclaimed. "I mean this," Abe thundered: "I mean, we paid twenty-two hundred and fifty dollars for what we could of bought for six hundred dollars. Them fixtures what we bought it from Flachsman, he bought it from Rifkin's bankruptcy sale. I mean that these here fixtures are the positively same identical fixtures what I seen it upstairs in H. Rifkin's loft."
"You give me right?" Abe repeated. "What d'ye mean?" "About them fixtures," Morris explained. "I give you right. Them fixtures is nothing but junk, and we got to get some new ones." "Sure we got to get some new ones, Mawruss," Abe agreed, "and I seen it the very thing what we want up at H. Rifkin's place." "H. Rifkin's place," Morris exclaimed. "That's what I said," Abe replied.
"Well, all I got to say is we would get it the positively same identical thing by H. Rifkin's place for six hundred dollars," Abe concluded. He rose to his feet and took off his hat and coat. "What did you say this here feller Flachsman was in the district lodge of the I. O. M. A., Mawruss?" he inquired. "Corresponding secretary," Morris replied. "What for you ask, Abe?"
"I scratched them matches and burnt that hole, if you think so; but just the same, Mawruss, if I did or if I didn't, Ike Flachsman done us, anyhow." "How d'ye know that, Abe?" Morris blurted out. "I don't believe them fixtures is Rifkin's fixtures at all, and I don't believe that Flachsman bought 'em at Rifkin's sale.
"That's what we bought it, Abe," Morris said, "fine mahogany partitions with plated glass. If you wouldn't jump so much over me, I would of told you about it." Abe shrugged despairingly. "Go ahead," he said. "I ain't jumping over you." "Well, in the first place, Abe," Morris went on, "there's a couple of swinging doors inside the hall door." "Just like Rifkin's," Abe interrupted.
"How many times should I tell it you, Abe," he cried, "them fixtures what Flachsman sells it us is new, and not like Rifkin's." "Go ahead, Mawruss," Abe replied. "Let's hear it." "Over the hole is a sign, Cashier," Morris continued. Abe was about to nod again, but at a warning glance from Morris he thought better of it.
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