Part 60 (1/2)
”What are you talking about Sol Klinger?” Abe demanded.
Thereupon Morris related to Abe the circ.u.mstances surrounding Sol Klinger's purchase of the coffee percolator, and when he concluded Abe nodded slowly.
”So that highwayman is b.u.t.ting in too,” he commented. ”How much did you say he is paying for that samovar, Mawruss?”
Morris closed his eyes as though he were making a conscientious effort to remember the exact amount.
”Thirty dollars,” he announced at last.
”What!” Abe cried. ”You stood there and let Sol Klinger buy for thirty dollars a present and we ourselves only spend ten? What for a piker are you anyway, Mawruss?”
”What do you mean, what for a piker am I?” Morris said indignantly. ”You are talking me black in the face on account I am spending ten dollars and now you are kicking I didn't spend thirty.”
”Did you tell me before that Sol Klinger buys a present?” Abe asked.
”And furthermore, Mawruss, this wouldn't be the first time we are spending money to get business. Couldn't we afford to lay out thirty dollars if we want to?”
”But, Abe----” Morris began.
”But nothing!” Abe roared. ”Why should you get all of a sudden so _sparsam mit_ our money, Mawruss? You talk like we would be new beginners on East Broadway already.”
”But, Abe----” Morris protested again.
”'S enough, Mawruss,” Abe interrupted. ”I heard enough from you already.
Only one thing I got to tell you: if we lose a chance of getting some business from a lady which you could really say I know her well enough that it's a shame we ain't sold her nothing already even, don't blame me. That's all I got to say.”
He walked away to the cutting room, while Morris sat down in the nearest chair, dazed to the point of temporary aphasia. For five minutes he sat still, endeavouring to trace the intricacies of a discussion that had put him so decisively in the wrong, and he was still pondering the matter when the elevator door opened and B. Gurin alighted.
”How do you do, Mr. Perlmutter?” Gurin cried.
Morris grunted inarticulately and made no attempt to take his visitor's proffered hand.
”Did you got any news for me?” Gurin asked.
Morris rose to his feet.
”Yes, I got some news for you,” he said. ”I got news for you that Mrs.
Gladstein is engaged to be married to a feller by the name Asimof.”
He looked absently at a sample rack upon which reposed the very newspaper that contained the advertis.e.m.e.nt.
”Here it is,” he continued, as he seized the paper. ”You could see for yourself.”
He handed the advertis.e.m.e.nt to Gurin, who read it over unmoved.
”Well, I must tell you the honest truth, Mr. Perlmutter,” he said. ”I couldn't say I am sorry.” And he smiled amiably.
As Morris gazed at the fas.h.i.+on-plate features and the fas.h.i.+on-plate apparel of his visitor, he entirely forgot his optimistic scheme of supplanting Asimof with Gurin and he grew suddenly livid with a fierce rage.