just takes a chance when he said that to the doctor. As a matter of
fact, Mawruss, Gladstein was one of them fellers which he ain't got a
relation in the world. Mrs. Gladstein neither, except _im_ Russland.
That's the way it goes, Mawruss. A feller which he has got so many
cousins and uncles that he gets writer's cramp already indorsing
accommodation paper for 'em, understand me, lives to be an old man yet,
and all the time his relations and his wife's relations is piling up on
him; while a man like Gladstein which you could really say has a chance
to enjoy life, Mawruss, is got to die."
Morris nodded.
"Don't I know it?" he commented. "And I suppose the widder sells out the
store."
"_Oser a stück_," Abe said. "She's still running the store, and making a
fair success of it too."
"Is that so?" Morris replied. "Well, then, why couldn't we get some of
her trade, Abe? Bridgetown ain't so far away from here. Why don't you
take a run over there sometime and see what you could do with her? Might
you could sell her some goods maybe."
"Yow!" Abe exclaimed derisively. "We couldn't sell that woman goods, not
if we was to let her have 'em for the price of the findings, Mawruss.
She's got an idee that she is getting stuck unless she would buy goods
from the same concerns that sold Gladstein."
"Well, if that's the case, Abe," Morris said, "she could never make no
big success there. A feller like Leon Sammet would just as lief stick a
widder as not--liefer even."
"Sure, I know," Abe replied.
"Then why don't some one give her a couple pointers about that feller,
Abe?" Morris inquired.
Abe nodded solemnly.
"You know a whole lot about women, Mawruss, I must say," he commented.
"You could give a woman pointers by the dozen about a man, Mawruss, and
swear to 'em with six affidavits yet, and what good would it do? It's
like putting a 'Wet Paint' sign up. Everybody feels the paint to see if
it really would be wet."
"What for a looking woman is she, Abe?" Morris asked, with an obvious
effort at nonchalance.
"How should I know?" Abe said. "I only seen her a couple times; and
anyhow, Mawruss, I don't take it so particular to look at women like
Leon Sammet does, Mawruss. That feller's a regular Don Quicks-toe,
Mawruss. He is all the time running around with women."
"A feller must got to entertain buyers once in a while, Abe," Morris
said.
"Buyers is all right, Mawruss," Abe declared, "but I guess I been in
this here business long enough that I could tell a buyer from a model."
"That's all right, Abe," Morris said. "Leon Sammet may run around the
streets with women, Abe, but that ain't saying he is got intentions to
marry Mrs. Gladstein. A feller like Leon Sammet which he is crowding
fifty pretty close, Abe, ain't looking to marry no widders. Young girls
is all them fellers is looking out for, Abe; and anyhow, Abe, what for a
match is Mrs. Gladstein to a manufacturer? If she expects that she
should get another husband, Abe, the only hope for her is some retailer
would marry her as a going concern. She couldn't liquidate her business
and come out even, let alone with money enough to get married, Abe."
"She don't got to got money to get married on, Mawruss," Abe rejoined.
"Any one would be glad to marry such a woman supposing she didn't got a
cent to her name. She's an elegant-looking woman, Mawruss--not too thin
and not too fat, Mawruss, and what a face she got it, Mawruss! My Rosie
was a good-looking woman, Mawruss, and is to-day yet; but Mrs.
Gladstein, Mawruss, that's a woman which in a theayter already you don't
see such a looking woman. She could dress herself, too, I bet yer. The
last time I was by Bridgetown she is wearing one of our Style 4022 which
Sammet _ganvered_ from us and calls the Lily Langtry costume, Mawruss,
in a navy shade, understand me; and I don't know nothing about this here
Lily Langtry, Mawruss, but I could tell you right now, Mawruss, she
ain't got nothing on Mrs. Gladstein when it comes to looks."
Morris nodded and turned to the contemplation of some cutting-slips,
while Abe made ready for lunch.
"Say, lookyhere, Abe," Morris said, when Abe appeared with his hat on.
"I've been thinking about this here Mrs. Gladstein, understand me, and I
come to the conclusion: Why should we give up so easy? Gladstein always
done a good business in that store, y'understand, and if the widder is
such a good-looking woman like you say she is, Abe, there's an opening
for her to attract a big trade in gents' furnishings and hats up there,
and at the same time keep the cloak-and-suit end going."
"What d'ye mean--attract a big trade in gents' furnishings and hats,
Mawruss?" Abe demanded indignantly. "If you think the woman is a flirt,
Mawruss, you are making a big mistake."
"Must a woman got to be a flirt that she should sell gents' furnishings,
Abe?" Morris asked with some heat.
"That's all right, Mawruss," Abe said with a scowl. "A lady ain't
looking to sell the gents' furnishing trade, Mawruss."
"I know she ain't," Morris replied, "but if a woman is good-looking,
Abe, naturally she attracts the clothing and furnishing customers, but
she don't got to sell those customers, Abe. Her husband could do that."
"Her husband could do it?" Abe repeated. "What are you talking
about--her husband?"
"Sure, her husband," Morris went on, "and especially if a good-looking
woman like Mrs. Gladstein would got for a husband a good-looking man
like B. Gurin, understand me, the idee works both ways. Mrs. Gladstein
attracts the clothing trade and B. Gurin sells 'em, y'understand, while
B. Gurin attracts the women's garment trade and Mrs. Gladstein sells
'em."
Abe sat down suddenly and took off his hat.
"What are you trying to drive into, Mawruss?" he asked.
"I am trying to drive into this, Abe," Morris replied: "B. Gurin is a
good-looking, up-to-date feller, but he's in wrong with that store of
his in Mount Vernon. In the first place, the neighbourhood ain't right,
y'understand, and in the second place Gurin don't attend to business
like he should; because he ain't married and he ain't got no
responsibilities. To such a feller, Abe, when it comes to taking a young
lady on theayter Saturday night, business is nix, even when Saturday is
a big night in Mount Vernon."
Abe nodded.
"Furthermore, Abe," Morris continued, "if we go on selling B. Gurin,
Abe, sooner or later he would bust up on us, understand me, and we are
not only out a customer but the least he sticks us is a couple hundred
dollars. He owes us two hundred and fifty right now, Abe, since the
first of the month already. Ain't it?"
Abe nodded again.
"But you take a young feller like B. Gurin, Abe," Morris went on, "which
all he needs is a wife to steady him and an up-to-date _Medeena_ like
Bridgetown to run a store in, understand me, and if we could put this
thing through, Abe, not only we are doing a _Mitzvah_ for all concerned,
Abe, but we are making a customer for life."
"You mean, Mawruss," Abe said slowly, "you would try to make up a match
between B. Gurin and Mrs. Gladstein?"
"Sure, why not?" Morris said. "It stands in the _Gemara_, Abe, we are
commanded to promote marriages, visit the sick and bury the dead."
Once more Abe nodded, and this time he managed to impart the quality of
irony to the gesture.
"Burying the dead is all right, Mawruss," he said. "From a dead man you
don't get no comebacks, and his relations is anyhow grateful; _aber_ if
you would make up a match between a couple of people like Mrs. Gladstein
and B. Gurin, what is it? Even if the marriage would be a success,
Mawruss, then the couple claims they was just suited to each other,
Mawruss, and we don't get no credit for it anyway. On the other hand,
Mawruss, if they don't agree together, they wouldn't hate each other
near so much as they'd hate us."
"Why should they hate us?" Morris asked. "Our intentions is anyhow
good."
"Sure, I know, Mawruss," Abe retorted. "From having good intentions
already, many a decent, respectable feller goes broke."
Morris flapped the air impatiently with his right hand.
"Anybody could sit down and talk proverbs, Abe," he said.
"I guess I could talk proverbs in my own store, Mawruss, if I want to,"
Abe rejoined with dignity.
"Sure you could," Morris replied, "but one thing you got to remember,
Abe. While the back-number is saying look out before you jump, the
up-to-date feller has jumped already, and lands on a
five-thousand-dollar order _mit_ both feet already."
* * * * *
"I'll tell you, Mr. Perlmutter, it's like this," B. Gurin explained, as
he sat in his Mount Vernon store that evening; "money don't figure at
all with me."
"Where is the harm supposing she does got a little money, Gurin?" Morris
protested. "And, anyhow, never mind the money, Gurin. We will say for
the sake of example she ain't got no money. Does it do any harm to look
at the woman?"
B. Gurin passed his hand through his wavy brown hair, cut semi-pompadour
in the latest fashion. There was no denying B. Gurin's claims to beauty.
"What is the use talking, Mr. Perlmutter?" he said, carefully examining
his finger-nails. "I am sick and tired of looking at 'em. Believe me I
ain't lying to you, if I looked at one I must of looked at hundreds. The
fathers was rated at the very least D to F first credit, and what is it?
The most of 'em I wouldn't marry, not if the rating was Aa 1 even, such
faces they got it, understand me; and the others which is got the looks,
y'understand, you could take it from me, Mr. Perlmutter, they couldn't
even cook a pertater even."
"Girls which they got D to F fathers don't got to cook pertaters,"
Morris commented shortly.
B. Gurin shrugged.
"For that matter, Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "I don't take it so
particular about my food neither."
"Say, lookyhere, Gurin," Morris exclaimed. "What is the trouble with you
anyhow? First you are telling me you don't care about money, next you
are kicking that the good-looking ones couldn't cook, y'understand, and
then you say you ain't so particular about cooking anyway. What for a
kind of girl do you want, Gurin?"
Gurin continued to examine his finger-nails and made no reply.
"Because, Gurin," Morris concluded, "if you are looking for a homely
girl which she ain't got no money and couldn't cook, understand me, I
wouldn't fool away my time with you at all. Such girls you don't need me
to find for you."
B. Gurin sighed profoundly.
"You shouldn't get mad, Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "if I tell you
something?"
"Why should I get mad, Gurin?" Morris asked. "I am coming all the way up
here, which I am leaving wife and boy at home to do so--and maybe you
don't think she put up a holler, Gurin! So if you wouldn't even consent
to do me the favour and look at Mrs. Gladstein, Gurin, and I don't get
mad, understand me, why should I get mad if you would tell me
something?"
"Well," Gurin commenced, "it ain't much to tell, Mr. Perlmutter. I guess
you hear already why I am coming to this country."
Morris elevated his eyebrows.
"I suppose you are coming here like anybody else comes here," he said.
"Sooner as stay in the old country and be a _Schnorrer_ all your life,
you come over here, ain't it?"
"No, siree, sir," Gurin replied emphatically.
"If I would stay in the old country, Perlmutter, I don't got to be a
_Schnorrer_. Do you know Louis Moses, the banker in Minsk?"
Morris nodded.
"That's from _mir_ an uncle, _verstehst du_?" Gurin said; "and Zachs,
the big corn merchant, that's also an uncle. My father ain't a
_Schnorrer_ neither, Mr. Perlmutter; in fact, instead I am sending home
money to Russland like most fellers which they come to this country, Mr.
Perlmutter, my people sends me money yet."
He jumped from his chair and went to the safe, from which he extracted
two crisp Russian banknotes.
"A hundred rubles apiece," he said, and his face beamed with pride. "So,
you see, I don't got to leave Russland because I would be a _Schnorrer_
over there."
"No?" Morris replied. "Then why did you leave, Gurin? So far what I
could see you ain't made it such a big success over here."
"You couldn't make me mad by saying that, Mr. Perlmutter," Gurin
commented. "A big success _oder_ a big failure, it makes no difference
to me."
"It makes a whole lot of difference to me," Morris cried.
"Yes, Mr. Perlmutter," B. Gurin went on, disregarding the interruption.
"I ain't coming over here to make a big success in business. I am coming
over here to forget."
"To forget!" Morris exclaimed. "What d'ye mean, forget?"
B. Gurin ran his hands once more through his pompadour and nodded
slowly.
"That's what I said," he repeated--"to forget."
"Well, I hope you ain't forgetting you owe us now two hundred and fifty
dollars since the first of the month yet," Morris commented in dry,
matter-of-fact tones.
B. Gurin waved his hand airily.
"I could forget that easy, Mr. Perlmutter," he said--and Morris
winced--"but the rest I couldn't forget at all. Day and night I see her
face, Mr. Perlmutter--and such a face!"
Here he paused impressively.
"N-nah!" he exclaimed, and kissed the tips of his fingers, while Morris
glanced uneasily toward the door.
"Her name was Miss Polanya and her father keeps a big flour mill in
Koroleshtchevitzi, Mr. Perlmutter," Gurin went on. "A fine family,
understand me; and I am going out there from Minsk twice a week, when a
young feller by the name Lutsky--a corn broker, y'understand--comes to
sell her father goods."
Again B. Gurin paused, his left hand extended palm upward in a tremulous
gesture. Suddenly it dropped on his knee with a despondent smack.
"In two weeks already they was married," he concluded, "and me, I am
coming to America."
"You ain't coming to such a bad place neither," Morris rejoined; "even
supposing your uncles was such big _Machers_ in the old country."
"Places is all the same to me now," Gurin said--"women, too, Mr.
Perlmutter. I assure you, Mr. Perlmutter, since the day I am leaving
Minsk one woman is the same as another to me. I ain't got no use for
none of 'em."
"_Geh weg_, Gurin," Morris cried impatiently. "You talk like a fool. Just
because one lady goes back on you, understand me, is that a reason you
wouldn't got no use for no ladies at all? You might just as well say,
Gurin, because one customer busts up on you, y'understand, you would
never try to sell another customer so long as you live. Now this here
Mrs. Gladstein, Gurin, is a lady which while I never seen this here lady
_im_ Russland, y'understand, if you will just come out to Bridgetown
with me, Gurin, I give you a guaranty Russland wouldn't figure at all."
Gurin shook his head sadly.
"You don't know me, Mr. Perlmutter," he said. "While I am going with
plenty _Schatchens_ to see young ladies already, Mr. Perlmutter, I
assure you my heart ain't in it. People gets the impression because I am
a swell dresser, Mr. Perlmutter, that I am looking to get married; but
believe me, Mr. Perlmutter, it ain't so."
"Then what do you go for, Gurin?" Morris asked. "_Schatchens_ don't like
to fool away their time no more as I do, Gurin; and you could take it
from me, no girl is going to the trouble to fix herself up and make a
nice supper for you and the _Schatchen_ simply for the pleasure of
seeing a swell dresser, Gurin."
"That's just the point, Mr. Perlmutter," Gurin said. "A feller which
runs a store like this one and eats his meals in restaurants, understand
me, must got to get a little home cooking once in a while. Ain't it?"
"Why not get married and be done with it?" Morris retorted; "and then
you could get home cooking all the time."
Once more Gurin shook his head.
"Without love, Mr. Perlmutter, marriage is nix," he said.
"_Schmooes!_" Morris exclaimed. "Do you think when I got married I loved
my wife, Gurin? _Oser_ a _stück_. And to-day yet I am crazy about her.
With a business man, Gurin, love comes after marriage."
B. Gurin rose wearily to his feet and shot his cuffs by way of showing
impatience.
"What is the use talking, Mr. Perlmutter?" he protested. "When I want to
get married I would get married--otherwise not."
He flecked away an imaginary grain of dust from the lapel of his coat
and walked slowly toward the door.
"Are you going home on the New Haven road _oder_ the Harlem road?" he
asked.
Morris scowled, and his indignation lent such force to the gesture with
which he put on his hat that the impact sounded like a blow on a
tambourine.
"_Schon gut_, Gurin," he said. "I am through with you."
He paused at the doorway and lit a cigar.
"And one thing I could tell you, Gurin," he concluded. "Either you would
send us a check the first thing to-morrow morning, _oder_ we would give
your account to our lawyers, and that's all there is to it."
He puffed away at his cigar as he trudged down the street, and he had
nearly reached the corner when he heard a familiar voice shouting: "Mr.
Perlmutter!" He turned to view B. Gurin hastening after him.
"Well, Gurin," he grunted, "what you want now?"
Gurin stopped and gasped for breath, and Morris's heart gave a
triumphant leap as he noted the anxiety displayed on B. Gurin's
clean-shaven features.
"Speak up, Gurin," he said; "I got to get my train."
Gurin smiled in surrender.
"All right, Mr. Perlmutter," he murmured; "make for me a date and I will
look the lady over."
* * * * *
When Morris entered his place of business the next morning he found his
partner examining the advertising columns of a morning paper with an
absorption hardly justified by the tabulated list of births, marriages
and deaths at which he was gazing.
"What's biting you now, Abe?" Morris demanded.
"What d'ye mean, what's biting me?" Abe rejoined, and Morris blushed in
the consciousness of his oversleeping that morning by more than half an
hour.
"Say, lookyhere, Abe," he cried. "I don't know what you are driving
into, understand me, but if you think you could get _brogus_ at me just
because I am ten minutes late once in a while, y'understand, let me tell
you I am catching a twelve o'clock train from Mount Vernon last night,
and not alone I am talking myself blue in the face to that feller Gurin,
y'understand, but when I got home already I couldn't get to sleep till I
told the whole thing to my Minnie yet."
Abe nodded slowly.
"Yes, Abe," Morris continued, "I got to go over the story twice over
already, and even then, y'understand, my Minnie gets mad because I
didn't contradict myself.
"Only one idee that woman got it in her head, Abe. If I am out of the
house _schon_ ten minutes already you couldn't tell her otherwise but I
am playing auction pinocle."
"Well, you might just as well of been playing auction pinocle last night
for all the good it would do us."
"What are you talking about--all the good it would do us?" Morris almost
whimpered.
"I actually got the feller dead to rights, Abe, and all I must do now is
to work from the other end."
Abe burst into a mirthless laugh and handed Morris the paper.
"You should of worked the other end first, Mawruss," he declared, as he
indicated an advertising item with his thumb. "That's what Leon Sammet
did, Mawruss."
Morris seized the paper and his face grew purple as he read the
following notice:
ENGAGED: Asimof--Gladstein. Mrs. Sonia Gladstein, of Bridgetown,
Pa., to Jacob Asimof, of Dotyville, Pa. At home, Sunday next 3 to 7
at the residence of Mrs. Leah Sammet, 86-3/4 West One Hundredth and
Eighteenth Street. No cards.
"Leon's mother makes the engagement party for 'em, Mawruss," Abe said
dryly. "Costs a whole lot of money, too, and I bet yer Mrs. Gladstein
wouldn't notice it at all in the next six months' statements Leon sends
to her."
Morris stifled a groan as he laid down the paper and forced himself to
smile confidently.
"What difference does an engagement make, Abe?" he asked. "An engagement
ain't a wedding, Abe, and it ain't too late even now."
Again Abe indulged in a bitter laugh.
"You're a regular optician, Mawruss," he said. "You never give up hope."
"That's all right, Abe," Morris retorted. "We could stand a couple
opticians in this concern. Always you are ready to lay down on a
proposition just as soon as things goes a little wrong, understand me,
but me I think differencely."
Abe shrugged and rose to his feet.
"Well, Mawruss," he said, "take off your hat and coat and stay a while.
Maybe we could do a little business here this morning for a change."
"Maybe we could and maybe we couldn't, Abe," Morris rejoined, as he
buttoned up his coat; "but just the same I am going to do something
which you will really be surprised."
"Not at all," Abe corrected; "we are partners together so long that I am
only surprised supposing you should act sensible."
"Well, the way I look at it I am acting sensible, Abe," Morris
announced. "I am acting sensible, because I am going right down to see
Marcus Flachs and I would buy from him for ten dollars cut glass, and I
would show that sucker Sammet he couldn't faze me none."
"What d'ye mean, couldn't faze you none?" Abe asked.
"I mean if Sammet is such a faker he goes to work and makes engagement
parties for his customers and puts 'em on the paper yet, Abe," Morris
declared, as he jammed his hat down more firmly on his head, "he must
got to expect his competitors would take advantage of it, understand me.
And you could bet your sweet life, Abe, Sunday afternoon, comes three
o'clock, I am right there at his mother's house with the cut glass, and
don't you forget it."
Abe nodded grimly.
"It's a free country, Mawruss," he said, "and nobody could stop you
going to an engagement party which is in the paper, y'understand; but
you shouldn't forget one thing, Mawruss. You got on our ledger a drawing
account, _verstehst du_, and on your way out you should please tell Miss
Cohen to enter the ten dollars cut glass in the right place."
"Don't worry, Abe," Morris cried, as he started for the elevator. "When
the time comes we should post it in the ledger, if we ain't opened a new
account in Bridgetown, Pa., I would pay for it myself."
Ten minutes later he entered the Twenty-third Street subway station en
route to Canal Street, and no sooner had he bought his ticket than his
enthusiasm began to wane. After all, he reflected as he boarded the
train, ten dollars' worth of cut glass seemed rather extravagant when
one considered the size of an order that in the most favourable
circumstances might emanate from a store in Bridgetown. Indeed, as the
train pulled into the Eighteenth Street station he had come to believe
that seven dollars and fifty cents would be a generous price, and even
this figure commenced to look huge as Fourteenth Street drew near. At
Astor Place, Morris decided that five dollars' worth of cut glass would
be more appropriate for a widow. When the guard announced the next stop
as Bleecker Street, however, it occurred to Morris that the
manufacturers of quadruple plate were producing some very artistic
effects in knives, forks and spoons, which in appearance were
undistinguishable from sterling silver; and the train was leaving Spring
Street when Morris bethought himself of a certain _bonbonnière_ that had
cost Mrs. Perlmutter precisely four dollars at a dry-goods store. He
distinctly recalled examining the trade-mark, to which were affixed the
words "triple plate."
During the short walk from the Canal Street station to Marcus Flachs's
place of business, he wondered vaguely if there were such a thing as
double plate, and when at last he opened the door of the pawnbroker's
sales store in question he approached the counter with his mind fully
made up.
"Do you got maybe some sets from nutpicks?" he inquired of the
proprietor.
Marcus Flachs took the question in ill part.
"What the devil do you think I am running here," he demanded by way of
answer--"a five-and-ten-cent store?"
"Since when do they sell it nutpicks in a five-and-ten-cent-store?"
Morris retorted.
Flachs snorted angrily.
"I don't think they sell 'em even in five-and-ten-cent stores," he said;
"and anyhow, Mr. Perlmutter, what for a present is nutpicks? If a feller
eats nuts twice a year, that's a big average. For my part it would
_oser_ break my heart if I would never eat another nut so long as I
live. Now what you want to get is something cheap, ain't it?"
Morris nodded.
"Something about two dollars and fifty cents," he said.
"That's what I thought," Flachs replied, "and for two dollars and fifty
cents there ain't much choice. Olive dishes is all I could show you."