Part 51 (1/2)
”What's the matter now?” Morris asked.
”Harkavy has quit us again,” Abe replied.
”Quit us!” Morris exclaimed. ”What for?”
”Nothing. All I says to the feller was why them piece goods is on the floor, and he says he is sick and tired and I should get another designer.”
Morris bit the end off a new cigar and glared ferociously at Abe.
”So,” he said bitterly, ”we lose another designer through you, Abe. What do you think, a designer would stand for abuse the same like a partner, Abe?”
”What d'ye mean--abuse, Mawruss?” Abe protested. ”I ain't said no abuse to the feller at all; and even if I would, Mawruss, I guess I could talk like how I want to in my own cutting room, Mawruss.”
Morris rose to his feet.
”_Schon gut_, Abe,” he said. ”Don't ask me I should step right into Harkavy's shoes and work like a dawg till you are finding a new designer, Abe. Them days is past, Abe.”
”You shouldn't worry yourself, Mawruss,” Abe retorted. ”The way business is so rotten nowadays, y'understand, we would quick get another designer.”
”Would you?” Morris cried. ”Well, I guess I got something to say about that, Abe. If you think we are going to work to hire a designer which he is getting fired by every John, d.i.c.k and Harry, you got another think coming. This time, Abe, I would hire the designer, and don't you forget it.”
”Did I say I wanted to do it, Mawruss?” Abe asked. ”Go ahead and hire him, Mawruss, only one thing I got to ask you as a favour: don't say the feller was my choice, Mawruss; because I wipe my hands from the whole matter.”
For the remainder of the day Morris and Abe maintained only such speaking relations as were necessary to the conduct of their business, and when Morris went home that evening he wore so gloomy an air that Harry Baskof, who rode up on the elevator with him, was moved to comment.
”What's the matter, Mawruss?” he said. ”You look like your best customer would be asking an extension on you.”
”We don't sell such people at all, Harry,” Morris said bitterly.
”Collections is all right, Harry, but when a feller's got a partner which he is got such a quick temper, understand me, that he fires out the help faster as I could hire 'em--I got a right to look worried. Our designer leaves us to-day.”
”Ain't that terrible, Mawruss,” Harry said in mock sympathy. ”I suppose you couldn't walk for miles on Fifth Avenue between Eighteenth and Twenty-third Street and break your neck falling over a hundred designers which they are hanging around there looking for jobs.”
They alighted at the third floor and Morris drew his latchkey from his waistcoat pocket.
”Sure, I know, Harry,” he retorted. ”Them people which they already got designers could always find a better one, y'understand, but when you ain't got a designer, Harry, that's something else again. You could advertise until you are blue in the face, and all the answers you get is from fellers which they couldn't design a sausage casing for a frankfurter already.”
”_Schmooes_, Mawruss!” Harry cried. ”I could get you thousands of designers. In fact, Mawruss, only this afternoon my father-in-law, Mr.
Finkman, sends me over a man which he is working for years by Senft & Co. as a designer, I should give him a job. I already got a good designer, so what could I do?”
”Why didn't you think to send him over to me, Harry?” Morris said.
”How should I know you wanted a designer?” Harry rejoined. ”But, anyhow, maybe it ain't too late yet. After supper I would ring up Mr. Finkman and I'll let you know.”
”Much obliged,” Morris said, as he turned the key and entered his own apartment. He was so far restored to good humour by his conversation with Harry Baskof that when he bestowed his evening kiss on Minnie he failed to notice that her eyes were somewhat swollen.
”Yes, Minnie,” he said, ”that's the way it is when you got good neighbours.”
”Good neighbours!” Minnie said bitterly, and then for the first time Morris observed her swollen eyelids.
”Why, Minnie _leben_,” he exclaimed as he folded her in a second embrace, ”what's the trouble?”