"I got a suggestion."
Goldman ceased rocking and looked up.
"I got a suggestion, Abe," Morris went on, "that we sell it our machines
on long terms of credit to Goldman, and he should go into the
contracting business; ain't it?"
"_Ai vai!_" Goldman cried again, and commenced to rock anew.
"Stop it, Goldman," Abe yelled. "What's the trouble now?"
"What show does a feller got it what starts as a new beginner in cloak
contracting already?" Goldman wailed.
"Well," Abe replied, "you could get our work."
Morris seized on this as a happy compromise between his own advocacy of
Ginsburg & Kaplan and the rival claims of Abe's wife's relations.
"Sure," he agreed. "We will give him the work what we give now to
Satinstein and Ginsburg & Kaplan."
Goldman's face spread into a thousand wrinkles of joy.
"You save my life!" he exclaimed.
"Only he got to agree by a lawyer he should make it up our work a whole
lot cheaper as they did," Morris concluded.
Goldman nodded vigorously.
"Sure, sure," he said.
"And also he got to help us call off this here strike," Abe added.
"I do my bestest," Goldman replied. "Only we got to see it the varking
delegate first and fix it up with him."
"Who is this walking delegate, anyhow?" Morris asked.
Goldman scratched his head to aid his memory.
"I remember it now," he said at last. "It's a feller by the name
Sam Slotkin."
When Abe and Morris recovered from the shock of Goldman's disclosure
they vied with each other in the strength of their resolutions not to
move into Sam Slotkin's loft.
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