Part 55 (1/2)
For almost an hour longer Morris busied himself with the a.s.sortment of the sample line, and he had about concluded his task when a great wailing noise came from the cutting room. He jumped to his feet and ran hurriedly to the scene of the uproar. There he found Enrico Simonetti seated on a stool, clutching his hair with both hands, while around him stood a group of his a.s.sistants, voicing their anguish like a pack of foxhounds.
”_Koos.h.!.+_” Morris cried. ”What is the trouble here?”
The wailing ceased, but Enrico remained seated, his hands still clutching his bushy hair, while his large brown eyes stared blankly from a face as white as a pierrot.
”What's the matter?” Morris repeated.
”His bank busted on him,” said Nathan Schenkman, the s.h.i.+pping clerk.
”His bank!” Morris cried. ”What bank?”
”It ain't a regular bank,” Nathan explained. ”He is giving his money to an Italiener which he calls himself a banker, Mr. Perlmutter; and to-day when he is going there to get him money the feller's store is locked.
n.o.body knows where he went to at all. The clerks also is gone.”
”Is that right, Henry?” Morris asked.
Enrico nodded his head without removing his hands from his hair.
”There is a big crowd of loafers around the store,” Nathan continued, ”which they are saying they would kill the feller if they get him, so Henry comes back here on account he ain't that kind, Mr. Perlmutter.
Henry is a decent feller, Mr. Perlmutter.”
Morris looked pityingly at his cutter, who continued to stare at the floor in stony despair.
”Might you could do something to get him his money back maybe, Mr.
Perlmutter?” Nathan said.
”I would see when my partner comes in from lunch,” Morris replied, and as he turned to leave the cutting room Abe's bulky form blocked the doorway. Morris waved him back, and Abe tiptoed to the front of the showroom followed by Morris.
”What's the trouble?” Abe asked immediately.
”Trouble enough,” Morris declared. ”Henry's bank busted on him.”
”What!” Abe cried, and Morris repeated the information.
”Then he wouldn't leave us at all,” Abe said, and Morris nodded sadly.
”Ain't it terrible?” he commented.
”Terrible?” Abe asked. ”What d'ye mean--terrible? Is it so terrible that we wouldn't got to lose our designer right in the middle of the busy season?”
”I don't mean us, Abe,” Morris said. ”I mean for Henry.”
”Henry neither,” Abe rejoined. ”Henry would still got his job with two hundred dollars a year raise.”
”And a bonus of two hundred dollars,” Morris added.
”A bonus of nothing!” Abe almost shouted. ”Do you mean to told me you would pay Henry a bonus of two hundred dollars now that he must got to stay on with us?”