Part 57 (1/2)
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 pa.s.sed his hand through his wavy brown hair, cut semi-pompadour in the latest fas.h.i.+on. 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.