"And I never claimed no shortages and never made no kicks nor nothing,
but always paid up prompt on the day like a gentleman. Ain't it?"
Abe nodded again.
"And this is what I get for it," Mr. Hahn went on bitterly. "My own
niece on my wife's side, I put her in your care. I ask you to take it an
interest in her. You promise me you will do your best. You tell me and
Max Fried you will look after her"--he hesitated, almost overcome by
emotion--"like a father. You said that when I bought the second bill.
And what happens? The only chance she gets to make a decent match, you
write me the feller ain't no good. Naturally, I think you got some
sense, and so I busts the affair up."
"Well," Abe said, "I did write you he wasn't no good, and he wasn't no
good, neither. Ain't he just made it a failure?"
Mr. Hahn grew once more infuriated.
"A failure!" he yelled. "I should say he did make a failure. _What_ a
failure he made! Fool! Donkey! The man got away with a hundred thousand
dollars and is living like a prince in the old country. And poor Gussie,
she loved him, too! She cries night and day."
He stopped to wipe a sympathetic tear.
"She cries pretty easy," Abe said. "She cried when we fired Mannie
Gubin, too."
Hahn bristled again.
"You insult me. What?" he cried. "You try to get funny with me. Hey? All
right. I fix you. So far what I can help it, never no more do you sell
me or Max or anybody what is friends of ours a button.
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