Part 23 (1/2)
”I bet yer!” Abe replied, without looking up from his order book, which was overflowing with requisitions for spring garments. ”I bet yer, Mawruss! You take my Rosie for instance: at her age you got no idee what a sport she is. Yesterday afternoon she went to a bridge-whist party by Mrs. Koblin's and she won a sterling solid-silver fern dish. And mind you, Mawruss, she only just found out how to play the game.”
”Who learned her?” Morris asked.
”Mrs. Klinger and Mrs. Elenbogen,” Abe replied. ”That's two fine women, Mawruss--particularly Mrs. Elenbogen.”
CHAPTER FIVE
A RETURN TO ARCADY
”Yes, Abe,” Morris Perlmutter said with bitter emphasis; ”Max Kirschner steals away trade from under our noses while you fool away your time selling goods to a feller like Sam Green.”
”What d'ye mean, fool away my time?” Abe cried indignantly. ”Sam Green is an old customer from ours; and if Henry Feigenbaum gives for a couple of hundred dollars an order to Max Kirschner he only does it because he's got pity on the old man. And, anyhow, Mawruss, even if Sam Green is a little slow, y'understand, sooner or later we get our money--ain't it?
”Sure, I know, Abe; and if them sooner-or-later fellers would pay you oncet in a while sooner, Abe, it would be all right, y'understand. But they don't, Abe; they always pay you later.”
”Well, Sam has got some pretty stiff compet.i.tion up there, Mawruss,” Abe said. ”In the first place, Cyprus is too near Sarahcuse, y'understand; and if one of them yokels wants to buy for thirty dollars a garment for his wife, if he is up-to-date, he goes to Sarahcuse; and if he is a back number he goes to Sam's compet.i.tors!--What's the name now?--Van Buskirk & Patterson. Yes, Mawruss, back numbers always buys from back numbers.”
”Why don't we sell that Van Buster concern our line, Abe?”
”A fine chance I got it with them people, Mawruss!” Abe exclaimed. ”They buy their whole stock from a jobber in Buffalo and they got an idee that Russian blouses is the latest up-to-the-minute effect in garments. And you couldn't blame 'em, Mawruss; most of the women up in Cyprus thinks that way too.”
”That ain't here nor there, Abe,” Morris interrupted. ”Sam Green is one of them fellers which he is slow pay if he would be worth a million even. He's got the habit Abe. Look what he writes us now.”
He handed Abe a letter which read as follows:
SAMUEL GREEN DRYGOODS AND NOTIONS THE K. & M. SYLPHSHAPE CORSET CYPRUS, NEW YORK, April 1, 1910
GENTS: Your favour of the thirtieth inst. rec'd and contents noted; and in reply would say you should be so kind and wait a couple days, and I will send you a check sure--on an account I got sickness in the family and oblige
Yours truly, S. GREEN.
”Well, Mawruss,” Abe commented, mindful of a recent obstinate lumbago, ”might the feller did got sickness in his family maybe.”
”_Schmooes_, Abe!” Morris cried impatiently. ”Every season that feller's got another excuse. Last fall his wife goes to work and has an operation. A year ago he is got his uncle in the hospital. The winter before that he is got funeral expenses on account his mother died on him; and so it goes, Abe. That feller would a damsite sooner kill off his whole family, y'understand, than pay a bill to the day it is due.”
”All right,” Abe said; ”then we wouldn't sell him no more--that's all.”
Morris shrugged.
”That's all!” he repeated. ”A concern don't pay strictly to the day; so we couldn't sell 'em no more, and that's all, _sagt er_! For a feller which he's losing customers right and left to a back number like Max Kirschner, Abe, you are talking pretty independent.”
”Say, lookyhere, Mawruss,” Abe exploded; ”I just told it you Max Kirschner only gets that order from Henry Feigenbaum because he takes pity on him.”
”What d'ye mean, pity?” Morris retorted. ”I seen Max Kirschner in the subway this morning and he looks like he needs pity, Abe. He's got diamonds stuck on him like a p.a.w.nbroker's window.”
”That's all right, Mawruss,” Abe continued. ”Some drummers is got diamonds and some is got bank accounts, but there's mighty few got both, Mawruss; and Max Kirschner ain't one of 'em. One thing you got to remember, Mawruss--Max is an old man.”
”What are you talking nonsense! An old man!” Morris exclaimed. ”Max is just turned sixty.”