"For so sure as
you live, Mawruss, if we don't make that delivery to the Fashion Store
inside of a week we get a cancelation by the next day's mail; ain't it?"
Morris nodded gloomily, and they both remained silent for a few
minutes.
"Mawruss," Abe said at last, "where is that loft what Slotkin gives us?"
"What do you want to know for?"
"I'm going right up to have a look at it," Abe replied. "I'm sick and
tired of this here strike business."
Morris heaved a great sigh.
"I believe you, Abe," he said. "The way I feel it now we will sell for
junk every machine what we got."
Forthwith Abe boarded a car for uptown, and when he returned two hours
later he found Goldman discussing ways and means with Morris in the
show-room.
"Well, Abe," Morris cried, "what for a loft you seen it?"
Abe hung up his hat deliberately.
"I tell you the truth, Mawruss," he said, turning around, "the loft
ain't bad. It's a good-looking loft, Mawruss, only it's certain sure we
couldn't have no machines in that loft."
"_Ai vai!_" Goldman exclaimed, rocking to and fro in his chair and
striking his head with his clenched fist.
"_Nu_ Goldman?" Morris asked. "What's the trouble with you?"
"Troubles enough he got it, Mawruss," Abe said, as he watched Goldman's
evolutions of woe. "If we do away with our machines he loses his job;
ain't it?"
Sympathy seemed only to intensify Goldman's distress.
"Better than that he should make me dizzy at my stomach to watch him,
Abe," Morris said.
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