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[Illustration: "If a feller wants to make a success in business he
should be a little up to date, ain't it?"]
ABE AND MAWRUSS
BEING FURTHER ADVENTURES OF POTASH AND PERLMUTTER
BY MONTAGUE GLASS
ILLUSTRATED BY J. J. GOULD AND MARTIN JUSTICE
GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 1911
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION
INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY FRANK A. MUNSEY COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1910, 1911, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
CHAPTER PAGE
I. SYMPATHY 3
II. THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 33
III. DEAD MEN'S SHOES 66
IV. THE RAINCOAT KING 116
V. A RETURN TO ARCADY 149
VI. A PRESENT FOR MR. GEIGERMANN 191
VII. BROTHERS ALL 236
VIII. R. S. V. P. 281
IX. FIRING MISS COHEN 294
X. AUX ITALIENS 310
XI. MAN PROPOSES 342
ILLUSTRATIONS
"If a feller wants to make a success in business he
should be a little up to date, ain't it?" Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
"If he would stole it he would of gave it to me, lady" 16
"Do you know anything about them old violins?" 204
"Mr. Potash," the visitor began, "every merchant is at times
confronted with a situation which demands a few appropriate
remarks" 254
CHAPTER ONE
SYMPATHY
"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. I seen Leon
in the Harlem Winter Garden last night, and the goods he sold while he
was talking to me and Barney Gans, Abe, in two seasons we don't do such
a business. Yes, Abe; Leon Sammet is just such another one of them
fellers like Max Linkheimer."
"What d'ye mean--'such another one of them fellers like Max
Linkheimer'?" Abe repeated. "Between Leon Sammet and Max Linkheimer is
the difference like day from night. Max Linkheimer is one fine man,
Mawruss."
Morris shrugged. "I didn't say he wasn't," he rejoined. "All I says
was that Leon Sammet is another one of them philantro fellers too, Abe.
Talks you deef, dumb and blind."
Abe rose to his feet and stared indignantly at his partner.
"I don't know what comes over you lately, Mawruss," he cried. "Seemingly
you don't understand the English language at all. A philantropist ain't
a _schmooser_, Mawruss."
"I know he ain't, Abe; but just the same Max Linkheimer is a feller
which he got a whole lot too much to say for himself. Furthermore, Abe,
my Minnie says Mrs. Linkheimer tells her Max ain't home a single night
neither, and when a man neglects his family like that, Abe, I ain't got
no use for him at all."
"That's because he belongs to eight lodges," Abe replied. "There ain't a
single Sunday neither which he ain't busy with funerals too, Mawruss."
"Is that so?" Morris retorted. "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. Why the money that feller spends on charity, Mawruss, you
wouldn't believe at all. He told me so himself. Always he tries to do
good. Only this morning, Mawruss, he was telling me about a young feller
by the name Schenkmann which he is trying to find a position for as
stock clerk. Nobody would take the young feller on, Mawruss, because he
got into trouble with a house in Dallas, Texas, which they claim the
young feller stole from them a hundred dollars, Mawruss. But Linkheimer
says how if you would give a dawg a bad name, Mawruss, you might just as
well give him to the dawgcatcher. So Linkheimer is willing to take a
chance on this here feller Schenkmann, and he gives him a job in his own
place."
"Dawgs I don't know nothing about at all, Abe," Morris commented. "But I
would be willing to give the young feller a show too, Abe, if I would
only got plain bone and metal buttons in stock. But when you carry a
couple hundred pieces silk goods, Abe, like we do, then that's something
else again."
"Well, Mawruss, _Gott sei dank_ we don't got to get a new shipping
clerk. Jake has been with us five years now, Mawruss, and so far what I
could see he ain't got ambition enough to ask for a raise even, let
alone look for a better job."
"You shouldn't congradulate yourself too quick, Abe," Morris replied.
"Ambition he's got it plenty, but he ain't got the nerve. We really
ought to give the feller a raise, Abe. I mean it. Every time I go near
him at all he gives me a look, and the first thing you know, Abe, he
would be leaving us."
"Looks we could stand it, Mawruss; but if we would start in giving him a
raise there would be no end to it at all. _Lass's bleiben._ If the
feller wants a raise, Mawruss, he should ask for it."
Barely two weeks after the conversation above set forth, however, Jake
entered the firm's private office and tendered his resignation.
"Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "I'm going to leave."
"Going to leave?" Morris cried. "What d'ye mean--going to leave?"
"Going to leave?" Abe repeated crescendo. "An idea! You should
positively do nothing of the kind."
"It wouldn't be no more than you deserve, Jake, if we would fire you
right out of the store," Morris added. "You work for us here five years
and then you come to us and say you are going to leave. Did you ever
hear of such a thing? If you want it a couple dollars more a week, we
would give it to you and _fartig_. But if you get fresh and come to us
and tell us you are going to leave, y'understand, then that's something
else again."
"Moost I work for you if I don't want to?" Jake asked.
"'S enough, Jake," Abe said. "We heard enough from you already."
"All right, Mr. Potash," he replied. "But just the same I am telling
you, Mr. Potash, you should look for a new shipping clerk, as I bought
it a candy, cigar and stationery store on Lenox Avenue, and I am going
to quit Saturday sure."
"Well, Abe, what did I told you?" Morris said bitterly, after Jake had
left the office. "For the sake of a couple of dollars a week, Abe, we
are losing a good shipping clerk."
Abe covered his embarrassment with a mirthless laugh.
"Good shipping clerks you could get any day in the week, Mawruss," he
said. "We ain't going to go out of business exactly, y'understand, just
because Jake is leaving us. I bet yer if we would advertise in to-morrow
morning's paper we would get a dozen good shipping clerks."
"Go ahead, advertise," Morris grunted. "This is your idee Jake leaves
us, Abe, and now you should find somebody to take his place. I'm sick
and tired making changes in the store."
"Always kicking, Mawruss, always kicking!" Abe retorted. "By Saturday I
bet yer we would get a hundred good shipping clerks already."
But Saturday came and went, and although in the meantime old and young
shipping clerks of every degree of uncleanliness passed in review before
Abe and Morris, none of them proved acceptable.
"All right, Abe," Morris said on the Monday morning after Jake had gone,
"you done enough about this here shipping clerk business. Give me a
show. I ain't got such liberal idees about shipping clerks as you got,
Abe, but all the same, Abe, I think I could go at this business with a
little system, y'understand."
"You shouldn't trouble yourself, Mawruss," Abe replied, with an airy
wave of his hand. "I hired one already."
"You hired one already, Abe!" Morris repeated. "Well, ain't I got
something to say about it too?"
"Again kicking, Mawruss?" Abe exclaimed. "You yourself told me I should
find a shipping clerk, and so I done so."
"Well," Morris cried, "ain't I even entitled to know the feller's name
at all?"
"Sure you are entitled to know his name," Abe answered. "He's a young
feller by the name of Schenkmann."
"Schenkmann," Morris said slowly. "Schenkmann? Where did I--you mean
that feller by the name Schenkmann which he works by Max Linkheimer?"
Abe nodded.
"What's the matter with you, Abe?" Morris cried. "Are you crazy or
what?"
"What do you mean am I crazy?" Abe said. "We carry burglary insurance,
ain't it? And besides he ain't, Mawruss, Max Linkheimer says, missed so
much as a button since the feller worked for him."
"A button," Morris shouted; "let me tell you something, Abe. Max
Linkheimer could miss a thousand buttons, and what is it? But with us,
Abe, one piece of silk goods is more as a hundred dollars."
"'S all right, Mawruss," Abe interrupted. "Max Linkheimer says we
shouldn't be afraid. He says he trusts the young feller in the office
with hundreds of dollars laying in the safe, and he ain't touched a cent
so far. Furthermore, the young feller's got a wife and baby, Mawruss."
"Well I got a wife and baby too, Abe."
"Sure, I know, Mawruss, and so you ought to got a little sympathy for
the feller."
Morris laughed raucously.
"Sure, I know, Abe," he replied. "A good way to lose money in business,
Abe, is to got sympathy for somebody. You sell a feller goods, Abe,
because he's a new beginner and you got sympathy for him, Abe, and the
feller busts up on you. You accommodate a concern with five hundred
dollars--a check against their check dated two weeks ahead, Abe--because
their collections is slow and you got sympathy for them, and when the
two weeks goes by, Abe, the check is N. G. You give a feller out in
Kansas City two months an extension because he done a bad spring
business, and you got sympathy for him, and the first thing you know,
Abe, a jobber out in Omaha gets a judgment against him and closes him
up. And that's the way it goes. If we would hire this young feller
because we got sympathy for him, Abe, the least that happens us is that
he gets away with a couple hundred dollars' worth of piece goods."
"Max Linkheimer says positively nothing of the kind," Abe insisted. "Max
says the feller has turned around a new leaf, and he would trust him
like a brother."
"Like a brother-in-law, you mean, Abe," Morris jeered. "That feller
Linkheimer never trusted nobody for nothing, Abe. Always by the first of
the month comes a statement, and if he don't get a check by the fifth,
Abe, he sends another with 'past due' stamped on to it."
"So much the better, Mawruss. If Max Linkheimer don't trust nobody,
Mawruss, and he lets this young feller work in his store, Mawruss, then
the feller must be O. K. Ain't it?"
Morris rose wearily to his feet.
"All right, Abe," he said. "If Linkheimer is so anxious to get rid of
this feller, let him give us a recommendation in writing, y'understand,
and I am satisfied we should give this here young Schenkmann a trial. He
could only get into us oncet, Abe, so go right over there and see
Linkheimer, and if in writing he would give us a guaranty the feller is
honest, go ahead and hire him."
"Right away I couldn't do it, Mawruss," Abe said. "When I left
Linkheimer in the subway this morning he said he was going over to
Newark and he wouldn't be back till to-night. I'll stop in there the
first thing to-morrow morning."
With this ultimatum, Abe proceeded to the back of the loft and
personally attended to the shipment of ten garments to a customer in
Cincinnati. Under his supervision a stock boy placed the garments in a
wooden packing box, and after the first top board was in position Abe
took a wire nail and held it 'twixt his thumb and finger point down on
the edge of the case. Then he poised the hammer in his right hand and
carefully closing one eye he gauged the distance between the upraised
hammer and the head of the nail. At length the blow descended, and
forthwith Abe commenced to dance around the floor in the newborn agony
of a smashed thumb.
It was while he was putting the finishing touches on a bandage that made
up in bulk what it lacked in symmetry that Morris entered.
"What's the matter, Abe?" he cried. "Did you hurted yourself?"
Abe transfixed his partner with a malevolent glare.
"No, Mawruss," he said, as he started for the front of the store, "I
ain't hurted myself at all. I'm just tying this here handkerchief on my
thumb to remind myself what a fool I got it for a partner."
Morris waited till Abe had nearly reached the door.
"I don't got to tie something on my thumb to remind myself of that,
Abe," he said.
* * * * *
Ever since the birth of his son it had seemed to Morris that the Lenox
Avenue express service had grown increasingly slow. Nor did the evening
papers contain half the interesting news of his early married life, and
he could barely wait until the train had stopped at One Hundred and
Sixteenth Street before he was elbowing his way to the platform.
On the Monday night of his partner's mishap he made his accustomed dash
from the subway station to his home on One Hundred and Eighteenth
Street, confident that as soon as his latchkey rattled in the door Mrs.
Perlmutter and the baby would be in the hall to greet him; but on this
occasion he was disappointed. To be sure the appetizing odour of
_gedampftes kalbfleisch_ wafted itself down the elevator shaft as he
entered the gilt and plaster-porphyry entrance from the street, but when
he crossed the threshold of his own apartment the robust wail of his son
and heir mingled with the tones of Lina, the Slavic maid. Of Mrs.
Perlmutter, however, there was no sign.
"Where's Minnie?" he demanded.
"Mrs. Perlmutter, she go out," Lina announced, "and she ain't coming
home yet."
Not since the return from their honeymoon had Minnie failed to be at
home to greet her husband on his arrival from business, and Morris was
about to telephone a general alarm to police headquarters when the
doorbell rang sharply and Mrs. Perlmutter entered. Her hat, whose size
and weight ought to have lent it stability, was tilted at a dangerous
angle, and beneath its broad brim her eyes glistened with unmistakable
tears.
"Minnie _leben_," Morris cried, as he clasped her in his arms, "what is
it?"
Sympathy only opened anew the floodgates of Mrs. Perlmutter's emotions,
and before she was sufficiently calm to disclose the cause of her
distress, the _gedampftes kalbfleisch_ gave evidence of its impending
destruction by a strong odour of scorching. Hastily Mrs. Perlmutter
dried her eyes and ran to the kitchen, so that it was not until the
rescued dinner smoked on the dining-room table that Morris learned the
reason for his wife's tears.
"Such a room, Morris," Mrs. Perlmutter declared; "like a pigsty, and
not a crust of bread in the house. I met the poor woman in the meat
market and she tried to beg a piece of liver from that loafer
Hirschkein. Not another cent of my money will he ever get. I bought a
big piece of steak for her and then I went home with her. Her poor baby,
Morris, looked like a little skeleton."
Morris shook his head from side to side and made inarticulate
expressions of commiseration through his nose, his mouth being
temporarily occupied by about half a pound of luscious veal.
"Her husband has a job for eight dollars a week," she continued, "and
they have to live on that."
Morris swallowed the veal with an effort.
"In Russland," he began, "six people----"
"I know," Mrs. Perlmutter interrupted, "but this is America, and you've
got to go around with me right after dinner and see the poor people."
Morris shrugged his shoulders.
"If I must, I must," he said, helping himself to more of the veal stew,
"but I could tell you right now, Minnie, I ain't got twenty-five cents
in my clothes, so you got to lend me a couple of dollars till Saturday."
"I'll cash a check for you," Mrs. Perlmutter said firmly, and as soon as
dinner was concluded Morris drew a check for ten dollars and Mrs.
Perlmutter gave him that amount out of her housekeeping money.
It was nearly nine o'clock when Morris and Minnie groped along the dark
hallway of a tenement house in Park Avenue. On the iron viaduct that
bestrides that deceptively named thoroughfare heavy trains thundered at
intervals, and it was only after Morris had knocked repeatedly at the
door of a top-floor apartment that its inmates heard the summons above
the roar of the traffic without.
"Well, Mrs. Schenkmann," Minnie cried cheerfully, "how's the baby
to-night?"
"Schenkmann?" Morris murmured; "Schenkmann? Is that the name of them
people?"
"Why, yes," Minnie replied. "Didn't I tell you that? Mrs. Schenkmann,
this is my husband. And I suppose this is Mr. Schenkmann."
A tall, gaunt person rose from the soap box that did duty as a chair and
ducked his head shyly.
"Schenkmann?" Morris repeated. "You ain't the Schenkmann which he works
by Max Linkheimer?"
Nathan Schenkmann nodded and Mrs. Schenkmann groaned aloud.
"_Ai zuris!_" she cried, "for his sorrow he works by Max Linkheimer.
Eight dollars a week he is supposed to get there, and Linkheimer makes
us live here in his house. Twelve dollars a month we pay for the rooms,
lady, and Linkheimer takes three dollars each week from Nathan's money.
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?" Morris inquired; and then, as
Mr. and Mrs. Schenkmann exchanged embarrassed looks and hung their
heads, Morris blushed.
"What a fine baby!" he cried hurriedly. He chucked the infant under its
chin and made such noises with his tongue as are popularly supposed by
parents to be of a nature entertaining to very young children. 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. He tells everybody, lady, and makes 'em believe he gives my
husband a job out of charity. So sure as I got a baby which I hope he
would grow up to be a man, lady, my husband never took no money in
Dallas. Them people gives him a hundred dollars he should deposit it in
the bank, and he went and lost it. If he would stole it he would of gave
it to me, lady, because my Nathan is a good man. He ain't no loafer that
he should gamble it away."
There was a ring of truth in Mrs. Schenkmann's tones, and as Morris
looked at the twenty-eight-years old Nathan, aged by ill nutrition and
abuse, his suspicions all dissolved and gave place only to a great
pity.
[Illustration: "If he would stole it he would of gave it to me,
lady"]
"Don't say no more, Mrs. Schenkmann," he cried; "I don't want to hear no
more about it. To-morrow morning your man leaves that loafer Max
Linkheimer and comes to work by us for eighteen dollars a week."
* * * * *
Easily the most salient feature of Mr. Max Linkheimer's attire was the
I. O. M. A. jewel that dangled from the tangent point of his generous waist
line. It had been presented to him by Harmony Lodge, 122, at the
conclusion of his term of office as National Grand Corresponding
Secretary, and it weighed about eight ounces avoirdupois. Not that the
rest of Mr. Linkheimer's wearing apparel was not in keeping, for he
affected to be somewhat old-fashioned in his attire, with just a dash of
_bonhomie_. This implies that he wore a wrinkled frock coat and low-cut
waistcoat. But he had discarded the black string tie that goes with it
for a white ready-made bow as being more suitable to the rôle of
philanthropist. The _bonhomie_ he supplied by not buttoning the two top
buttons of his waistcoat.
"Why, hallo, Abe, my boy!" he cried all in one breath, as Abe Potash
entered his button warerooms on Tuesday morning; "what can I do for
you?"
He seized Abe's right hand in a soft, warm grip, slightly moist, and
continued to hold it for the better part of five minutes.
"I come to see you about Schenkmann," Abe replied. "We decide we would
have him come to work by us as a shipping clerk."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Linkheimer, "As I told you the other day,
I've just been asked by a lodge I belong to if I could help out a young
feller just out of an orphan asylum. He's a big, strong, healthy boy,
and he's willing to come to work for half what I'm paying Schenkmann. So
naturally I've got to get rid of Schenkmann."
"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. When would you want
Schenkmann to come to work?"
"Right away, Mr. Linkheimer."
"Very good, I'll go and call him."
He rose to his feet and started for the door.
"Oh, by the way, Abe," he said, as he paused at the threshold, "you
know Schenkmann is a married man with a wife and child, and I understand
Mrs. Schenkmann is inclined to be extravagant. For that reason I let
him live in a house I own on Park Avenue, and I take out the rent each
week from his pay. It's really a charity to do so. The amount
is--er--sixteen dollars a month. I suppose you have no objection to
sending me four dollars a week out of his wages?"
"Well, I ain't exactly a collecting agency, y'understand," Abe said;
"but I'll see what my partner says, and if he's agreeable, I am. Only
one thing though, Mr. Linkheimer, my partner bothers the life out of me
I should get from you a recommendation."
"I'll give you one with pleasure, Abe," Linkheimer replied; "but it
isn't necessary."
He returned to the front of the office and went to the safe.
"Why just look here, Abe," he said. "I have here in the safe five
hundred dollars and some small bills which I put in there last night
after I come back from Newark. It was money I received the day before
yesterday as chairman of the entertainment committee of a lodge I belong
to. The safe was unlocked from five to seven last night and Schenkmann
was in and out here all that time."
He opened the middle compartment and pulled out a roll of bills.
"You see, Abe," he said, counting out the money, "here it is: one
hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred and----"
Here Mr. Linkheimer paused and examined the last bill carefully, for
instead of a hundred-dollar bill it was only a ten-dollar bill.
"Well, what d'ye think of that dirty thief?" he cried at last. "That
Schenkmann has taken a hundred-dollar bill out of there."
"What?" Abe exclaimed.
"Just as sure as you are sitting there," Linkheimer went on excitedly.
"That feller Schenkmann has pinched a hundred-dollar bill on me."
Here his academic English completely forsook him and he continued in the
vernacular of the lower East Side.
"Always up to now I have kept the safe locked on that feller, and the
very first time I get careless he goes to work and does me for a hundred
dollars yet."
"But," Abe protested, "you might of made a mistake, ain't it? If the
feller took it a hundred dollars, why don't he turn around and _ganver_
the other four hundred? Ain't it? The ten dollars also he might of took
it. What?"
"A _ganef_ you couldn't tell what he would do at all," Linkheimer
rejoined, and Abe rose to his feet.
"I'm sorry for you, Mr. Linkheimer," he said, seizing his hat, "but I
guess I must be getting back to the store. So you shouldn't trouble
yourself about this here feller Schenkmann. We decided we would get
along without him."
But Abe's words fell on deaf ears, for as he turned to leave Mr.
Linkheimer threw up the window sash and thrust his head out.
"Po-lee-eece, po-lee-eece!" he yelled.
* * * * *
When Abe arrived at his place of business after his visit to Max
Linkheimer he found Morris whistling cheerfully over the morning mail.
"Well, Abe," Morris cried, "did you seen it Max Linkheimer?"
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. "Wouldn't Linkheimer give a recommendation, because
if he wouldn't, Abe, I am satisfied we should take the feller without
one. In fact I'm surprised you didn't bring him along."
"You are, hey?" Abe broke in. "Well, you shouldn't be surprised at
nothing like that, Mawruss, because I didn't bring him along for the
simple reason, Mawruss, I don't want no _ganef_ working round my place.
That's all."
"What do you mean--_ganef_?" Morris cried. "The feller ain't no more a
thief as you are, Abe."
Abe's moustache bristled and his eyes bulged so indignantly that they
seemed to rest on his cheeks.
"You should be careful what you say, Mawruss," he retorted. "Maybe he
ain't no more a _ganef_ as I am, Mawruss, but just the same, he is in
jail and I ain't."
"In jail," Morris exclaimed. "What for in jail?"
"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."
"Then," Morris said, "if he stole it yesterday afternoon, Abe, he didn't
positively do nothing of the kind."
Forthwith he related to Abe his visit to Schenkmann's rooms and the
condition of poverty that he found.
"I give you my word, Abe," he said, "the feller didn't got even a chair
to sit on."
"What do you know, Mawruss, what he got and what he didn't got?" Abe
rejoined impatiently. "The feller naturally ain't going to show you the
hundred dollars which he stole it--especially, Mawruss, if he thinks
he could work you for a couple dollars more."
"Say, lookyhere, Abe," Morris broke in; "don't say again that feller
stole a hundred dollars, because I'm telling you once more, Abe, I know
he didn't take nothing, certain sure."
"_Geh wek_, Mawruss," Abe cried disgustedly; "you talk like a fool!"
"Do I?" Morris shouted. "All right, Abe. Maybe I do and maybe I don't,
but just the same so positive I am he didn't done it, I'm going right
down to Henry D. Feldman, and I will fix that feller Linkheimer he
should work a poor half-starved yokel for five dollars a week and a
couple of top-floor tenement rooms which it ain't worth six dollars a
month. Wait! I'll show that sucker."
He seized his hat and made for the elevator door, which he had almost
reached when Abe grabbed him by the arm.
"Mawruss," he cried, "are you crazy? What for you should put yourself
out about this here young feller? He ain't the last shipping clerk in
existence. You could get plenty good shipping clerks without bothering
yourself like this. Besides, Mawruss, if he did steal it or if he didn't
steal it, what difference does it make to us? With the silk piece goods
which we got it around our place, Mawruss, we couldn't afford to take no
chances."
"I ain't taking no chances, Abe," Morris maintained stoutly. "I know
this feller ain't took the money."
"Sure, that's all right," Abe agreed; "but you couldn't afford to be
away all morning right in the busy season. Besides, Mawruss, since when
did you become to be so charitable all of a suddent?"
"Me charitable?" Morris cried indignantly. "I ain't charitable, Abe.
_Gott soll hüten!_ I leave that to suckers like Max Linkheimer. But when
I know a decent, respectable feller is being put into jail for something
which he didn't do at all, Abe, then that's something else again."
At this juncture the elevator arrived, and as he plunged in he shouted
that he would be back before noon. Abe returned to the rear of the loft
where a number of rush orders had been arranged for shipment. Under his
instruction and supervision the stock boy nailed down the top boards of
the packing cases, but in nearly every instance, after the case was
strapped and stencilled, they discovered they had left one garment out,
and the whole process had to be repeated. Thus it was nearly one o'clock
before Abe's task was concluded, and although he had breakfasted late
that morning, when he looked at his watch he became suddenly famished.
"I could starve yet," he muttered, "for all that feller cares."
He walked up and down the showroom floor in an ecstasy of imaginary
hunger, and as he was making the hundredth trip the elevator door
opened and Max Linkheimer stepped out. His low-cut waistcoat disclosed
that his shirtfront, ordinarily of a glossy white perfection, had fallen
victim to a profuse perspiration. 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. That feller Feldman made a fine monkey out of me in
the police court."
"Was Feldman there too?" Abe asked.
"You don't know, I suppose, Feldman was there," Linkheimer continued;
"and your partner went on his bail for two thousand dollars."
Abe shrugged his shoulders.
"In the first place, Mr. Linkheimer," he said, "I didn't tell my partner
he should do nothing of the kind. He done it against my advice, Mr.
Linkheimer. But at the same time, Mr. Linkheimer, if he wants to go bail
for that feller, y'understand, what is it my business?"
"What is it your business?" Linkheimer repeated. "Why, don't you know
if that feller runs away the sheriff could come in here and clean out
your place? That's all."
"What?" Abe cried. He sat down in the nearest chair and gaped at
Linkheimer.
"Yes, sir," Linkheimer repeated, "you could be ruined by a thing like
that."
Abe's lower jaw fell still further. He was too dazed for comment.
"W-what could I do about it?" he gasped at length.
"Do about it!" Linkheimer cried. "Why, if I had a partner who played me
a dirty trick like that I'd kick him out of my place. There ain't a
copartnership agreement in existence that doesn't expressly say one
partner shouldn't give a bail bond without the other partner's consent."
Abe rocked to and fro in his chair.
"After all these years a feller should do a thing like that to me!" he
moaned.
Linkheimer smiled with satisfaction, and he was about to instance a
striking and wholly imaginary case of one partner ruining another by
giving a bail bond when the door leading to the cutting room in the rear
opened and Morris Perlmutter appeared. As his eyes rested on Linkheimer
they blazed with anger, and for once Morris seemed to possess a certain
dignity.
"Out," he commanded; "out from _mein_ store, you dawg, you!"
As he rushed on the startled button dealer, Abe grabbed his coat-tails
and pulled him back.
"Say, what are we here, Mawruss," he cried, "a theaytre?"
"Let him alone, Abe," Linkheimer counselled in a rather shaky voice.
"I'm pretty nearly twenty years older than he is, but I guess I could
cope with him."
"You wouldn't cope with nobody around here," Abe replied. "If youse two
want to cope you should go out on the sidewalk."
"Never mind," Morris broke in, his valour now quite evaporated; "I'll
fix him yet."
"Another thing, Mawruss," Abe interrupted; "why don't you come in the
front way like a man."
"I come in which way I please, Abe," Morris rejoined. "And furthermore,
Abe, when I got with me a poor skeleton of a feller like Nathan
Schenkmann, Abe, I don't take him up the front elevator. I would be
ashamed for our competitors that they should think we let our
work-people starve. The feller actually fainted on me as we was coming
up the freight elevator."
"As you was coming up the freight elevator?" Abe repeated. "Do you mean
to tell me you got the nerve to actually bring this feller into _mein_
place yet?"
"Do I got to get your permission, Abe, I should bring who I want to
into my own place?" Morris rejoined.
"Then all I got to say is you should take him right out again," Abe
said. "I wouldn't have no _ganévim_ in my place. Once and for all,
Mawruss, I am telling you I wouldn't stand for your nonsense. You are
giving our stock as a bail for this feller, and if he runs away on us,
the sheriff comes in and----"
"Who says I give our stock as a bail for this feller?" Morris demanded.
"I got a surety company bond, Abe, because Feldman says I shouldn't go
on no bail bonds, and I give the surety company my personal check for a
thousand dollars which they will return when the case is over. That's
what I done it to keep this here Schenkmann out of jail, Abe, and if it
would be necessary to get this here Linkheimer into jail, Abe, I would
have another check for a thousand dollars for keeps."
Abe grew somewhat abashed at this disclosure. He looked at Linkheimer
and then at Morris, but before he could think of something to say the
elevator door opened and Jake stepped out. It was perhaps the first time
in all their acquaintance with Jake that Abe and Morris had seen him
with his face washed. Moreover, a clean collar served further to conceal
his identity, and at first Abe did not recognize his former shipping
clerk.
"Hallo, Mr. Potash!" Jake said.
"I'll be with you in one moment, Mister--er," Abe began. "Just take
a--why, that's Jake, ain't it?"
Here he saw a chance for a conversational diversion and he jumped
excitedly to his feet.
"What's the matter, Jake?" he asked. "You want your old job back?"
"It don't go so quick as all that, Mr. Potash," Jake answered. "I got a
good business, Mr. Potash. I carry a fine line of cigars, candy, and
stationery, and already I got an offer of twenty-five dollars more as I
paid for the business. But I wouldn't take it. Why should I? I took in a
lot money yesterday, and only this morning, Mr. Potash, a feller comes
in my place and--why, there's the feller now!"
"Feller! What d'ye mean--feller?" Abe cried indignantly. "That ain't no
feller. That's Mr. Max Linkheimer."
"Sure, I know!" Jake explained. "He's the feller I mean. Half an hour
ago I was in his place, and they says there he comes up here. You was in
_mein_ store this morning, Mr. Linkheimer, ain't that right, and you
bought from me a package of all-tobacco cigarettes?"
"_Nu, nu_, Jake," Morris broke in. "Make an end. You are interrupting us
here."
Jake drew back his coat and clumsily unfastened a large safety pin which
sealed the opening of his upper right-hand waistcoat pocket. Then he
dug down with his thumb and finger and produced a small yellow wad
about the size of a postage stamp. This he proceeded to unfold until it
took on the appearance of a hundred-dollar bill.
"He gives me this here," Jake announced, "and I give him the change for
a ten-dollar bill. So this here is a hundred-dollar bill, ain't it, and
it don't belong to me, which I come downtown I should give it him back
again. What isn't mine I don't want at all."
This was perhaps the longest speech that Jake had ever made, and he
paused to lick his dry lips for the peroration.
"And so," he concluded, handing the bill to Linkheimer, "here it is,
and--and nine dollars and ninety cents, please."
Linkheimer grabbed the bill automatically and gazed at the figures on it
with bulging eyes.
"Why," Abe gasped, "why, Linkheimer, you had four one-hundred-dollar
bills and a ten-dollar bill in the safe this morning. Ain't it?"
Linkheimer nodded. Once more he broke into a copious perspiration, as he
handed a ten-dollar bill to Jake.
"And so," Abe went on, "and so you must of took a hundred-dollar bill
out of the safe last night, instead of a ten-dollar bill. Ain't it?"
Linkheimer nodded again.
"And so you made a mistake, ain't it?" Abe cried. "And this here
feller Schenkmann didn't took no money out of the safe at all. Ain't
it?"
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?"
"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."
"Not yet," Morris said significantly, "but when Feldman hears of this,
you would quick get a summons for a couple of thousand dollars damages
which you done this young feller Schenkmann by making him false
arrested."
"It ain't no more than you deserve, Linkheimer," Abe added. "You're
lucky I don't sue you for trying to make trouble between me and my
partner yet."
For one brief moment Linkheimer regarded Abe sorrowfully. There were few
occasions to which Linkheimer could not do justice with a
cut-and-dried sentiment or a well-worn aphorism, and he was about to
expatiate on ingratitude in business when Abe forestalled him.
"Another thing I wanted to say to you, Linkheimer," Abe said; "you
shouldn't wait until the first of the month to send us a statement. Mail
it to-night yet, because we give you notice we close your account right
here and now."
* * * * *
One week later Abe and Morris watched Nathan Schenkmann driving nails
into the top of a packing case with a force and precision of which Jake
had been wholly incapable; for seven days of better housing and better
feeding had done wonders for Nathan.
"Yes, Abe," Morris said as they turned away; "I think we made a find in
that boy, and we also done a charity too. Some people's got an idee,
Abe, that business is always business; but with me I think differencely.
You could never make no big success in business unless you got a little
sympathy for a feller oncet in a while. Ain't it?"
Abe nodded.
"I give you right, Mawruss," he said.
CHAPTER TWO
THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS
There was an intimate connection between Abe Potash's advent in the
lobby of the Prince Clarence Hotel one hot summer day in June and the
publication in that morning's Arrival of Buyers column of the following
statement and news item:
Griesman, M., Dry Goods Company, Syracuse; M. Griesman, ladies' and
misses' cloaks, suits, waists, and furs; Prince Clarence Hotel.
Nevertheless, when Abe caught sight of Mr. Griesman lolling in one of
the hotel's capacious _fauteuils_ he quickly looked the other way and
passed on to the clerk's desk. Then he asked in a loud tone for Mr.
Elkan Reinberg, of Boonton, New Jersey; and, almost before the clerk
told him that no such person was registered, he turned about and
recognized Mr. Griesman with an elaborate start.
"Why, how do you do, Mr. Griesman?" he exclaimed. "Ain't it a pleasure
to see you! What are you doing here in New York?"
Griesman looked hard at his interlocutor before replying.
Some two years earlier there had been an acrimonious correspondence
between them with reference to a shipment of skirts lost in transit--a
correspondence ending in threatened litigation; and Mr. Griesman had
transferred his account with Potash & Perlmutter to Sammet Brothers.
Hence he regarded Abe's proffered hand coldly, and instead of rising to
his feet he continued to puff at his cigar for a few moments.
"I know your face," he said at length, "but your name ain't familiar."
"Think again, Mr. Griesman," Abe said, quite unmoved by the rebuff.
"Where did you seen me before?"
"I think I seen you in a law office oncet," Griesman said. "To the best
of my recollection the occasion was one which you said you didn't give a
damn about my business at all, and if I wouldn't pay for the skirts you
would make it hot for me. But so far what I hear it, I ain't paid for
the skirts, and I didn't sweat none either."
"Why not let bygones be bygones, Mr. Griesman?" Abe rejoined.
"I ain't got no bygones, Abe," Griesman replied. "The bygones is all on
your side. I ain't got the skirts; so I didn't pay for 'em."
"Well, what is a few skirts that fellers should be enemies about 'em,
Mr. Griesman? The skirts is _vorbei schon_ long since already. Why don't
you anyhow come down to our place oncet in a while and see us, Moe?"
"What would I do in your place, Abe?"
"You still use a couple garments, like we make it, in your business,
Moe," Abe continued. "You got to buy goods in New York oncet in a while.
Ain't it?"
"Well, I do and I don't, Abe," Moe rejoined. "I ain't the back number
which I oncet used to was, Abe. I got fresh idees a little too, Abe.
Nowadays, Abe, a buyer couldn't rely on his own judgment at all. Before
he buys a new season's goods he's got to find out what they're wearing
on the other side first. So with me, Abe, I go first to Paris, Abe. Then
I see there what I want to buy here, Abe, and when I come back to New
York I buy only them goods which has got the idees I seen it in Paris."
"But how do you know we ain't got the idees you would seen it in Paris,
Moe?"
"I don't know, Abe," Moe replied, "because I ain't been to Paris yet so
far. I am now on my way over to Paris, Abe; and furthermore, Abe, if I
would been to Paris, y'understand, what does a feller like Mawruss know
about designing?"
"What d'ye mean, what does a feller like Mawruss know about designing?"
Abe repeated. "Don't you fool yourself, Moe; Mawruss is a first-class,
A number one designer. He gets his idees straight from the best fashion
journals. Then too, Moe, when it comes to up-to-date styles, I ain't
such a big fool neither, y'understand. I know one or two things about
designing myself, Moe, and you could take it from me, Moe, there ain't
no house in the trade, Moe, which they got better facilities for giving
you the latest up-to-the-minute style like we got it."
"Sure, I know," Moe continued; "but as I told it you before, Abe, I
ain't in the market for my fall goods now. I am now only on my way to
Paris, and when I would come back it would be time for you to waste your
breath."
"I could waste my breath all I want to, Moe," Abe rejoined. "I ain't
like some people, Moe; my breath don't cost me nothing."
"What d'ye mean?" Moe cried indignantly. He had allowed himself the
unusual indulgence of a cocktail that morning as a corollary to a rather
turbulent evening with Leon Sammet, and he had been absently chewing a
clove throughout the interview with Abe.
"I mean Hymie Salzman, designer for Sammet Brothers," Abe replied.
"There's a feller which he got it such a breath, Moe, he ought to put a
revenue stamp on his chin."
"That may be, Abe; but the feller delivers the goods. Sammet Brothers
are sending him to Paris this year too, Abe. He is sailing with Leon
Sammet on the same ship with me, Abe."
"Well, then all I could say to you is, Moe, you should look out for
yourself and don't play no auction pinocle with that feller. 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."
"I ain't trying to sell you no goods, Moe; I am only talking to you like
an old friend should talk to another. When are you coming back?"
"About July 1st I should be here," Moe replied, "and if you want to come
and see me like an old friend, Abe, you are welcome. Only I got to say
this to you, Abe, I forgot them skirts long since ago already, and I
wish you the same."
* * * * *
When Abe entered his showroom that morning Morris Perlmutter had just
arranged a high-neck evening gown on a wire model.
"Well, Abe, what d'ye think of it?" he exclaimed proudly, as he wiped
his glistening brow. Abe fingered the garment's silken folds and puffed
critically at a black cigar.
"What could I think, Mawruss?" he replied. "The garment looks all right,
Mawruss, and I ain't kicking, y'understand; but I tell you the honest
truth, Mawruss, the way things is nowadays, Mawruss, a feller could be
Elijah the Prophet already, and he couldn't tell in June what is going
to please the garment buyers in September."
Morris flushed angrily.
"I don't know what comes over you lately, Abe; nothing suits you," he
cried. "I got here a garment which if we would be paying a designer ten
thousand dollars a year yet he couldn't turn us out nothing better, and
yet you are kicking."
"What d'ye mean, kicking?" Abe rejoined. "I ain't kicking. I am only
passing a remark, Mawruss. I am saying I couldn't tell nothing about it,
Mawruss, because so far ahead of time like this, Mawruss, a garment
could look ever so rotten, Mawruss, and it could turn out to be a
record-seller anyhow."
"So, Abe," Morris broke out furiously, "you think the garment looks
rotten! What? Well, all I got to say is this, Abe; if the garment looks
so rotten you should quick hire some one which could design a better
one, because I am sick and tired of your kicking."
"What's the matter, you got pepper up your nose all of a sudden,
Mawruss?" Abe protested. "I ain't saying nothing about the garment is
rotten. I am only saying it gets so nowadays that in June a feller
turns out a style which if we was making masquerade costumes already it
would be freaky anyhow; and yet, Mawruss, it would go big in September.
You get the idee what I am talking about, Mawruss?"
"I get the idee all right," Morris retorted with bitter emphasis. "You
got the nerve to stand there and tell me this here garment is freaky
like a masquerade costume. _Schon gut_, Abe. From now on I wash myself
of the whole thing. I am through, Abe. You should right away advertise
for a designer."
Abe rose wearily to his feet.
"With a touchy proposition like you, Mawruss," he said, "a feller
couldn't open his mouth at all. I ain't saying nothing about you as a
designer, Mawruss. All I am saying, Mawruss, is, a designer could be a
feller which he is so high-grade like Paquin or any of them Frenchers,
but if he gets his idees from fashion papers _oder_ the _Daily Cloak and
Suit Gazette_, Mawruss, then oncet in a while he turns out a sticker."
Morris was stripping the garment from the display form, but he paused to
favour his partner with a glare.
"What would you want me to do, then?" he asked. "Make up styles out from
my own head, Abe? If I wouldn't get my idees from the fashion papers,
Abe, where would I get 'em?"
"Where would you get 'em?" Abe repeated. "Why, where does Hymie Salzman,
designer for Sammet Brothers, and Charles Eisenblum, designer for
Klinger & Klein, get their idees, Mawruss?"
This was purely a rhetorical question, but as Abe paused to heighten the
effect of the peroration, Morris undertook to supply an answer.
"Them suckers don't get their idees, Abe," he said; "they steal 'em. If
a concern gets a run on a certain garment, Abe, them two highway robbers
makes a duplicate of it before you could turn around your head. That's
the kind of cut-throats them fellers is, Abe."
"Sure, I know," Abe continued; "but they got to turn out some garments
of their own, Mawruss, and they get their idees right from headquarters.
They get their idees from Paris, Mawruss. Only this morning I hear it
that Hymie Salzman sails for Paris on Saturday."
"Well, I couldn't stop him, Abe," Morris commented.
"Sure, I know, Mawruss," Abe went on; "but things is very quiet here in
the store, Mawruss, and for a month yet we wouldn't do hardly no
business. I could get along here all right until, say, July 15th
anyhow."
For two minutes Morris looked hard at his partner.
"What are you driving into, Abe?" he asked at length.
"Why, I am driving into this, Mawruss," Abe continued. "Why don't you go
to Paris?"
"Me go to Paris!" Morris exclaimed.
"Why not?" Abe murmured. The suggestion did seem preposterous after all.
"Why not!" Morris repeated. "There's a whole lot of reasons why not,
Abe, and the first and foremost is that the Atlantic Ocean would got to
run dry and they got to build a railroad there first, Abe. I crossed the
water just oncet, Abe, and I wouldn't cross it again if I never sold
another dollar's worth more goods so long as I live, Abe; and that's all
there is to it."