And so he
transfers the house to the corporation."
"But if he does that, Abe," Morris cried gleefully, "Ferdy Rothschild
would never collect on that judgment, because that house is all the
property Rashkin's got."
"I hope you don't feel bad about it, Mawruss," Abe said.
"I bet yer I feel terrible, Abe," Morris said ironically. "But why did
Rashkin call it the Royal Piccadilly Realty Company, Abe?"
"For the sake of old times yet," Abe answered. "I hear it from Sol
Klinger that before Rashkin busted up in the waist business he used to
make up a garment called the Royal Piccadilly."
"Is that so?" Morris commented. "I never heard he busted up in the waist
business, Abe. Why couldn't he make a go of it, Abe?"
"Well, Mawruss, it was the same trouble with him like with some other
people, I know," Abe replied significantly. "He was a good manufacturer
but a poor salesman; and you know as well as I do, Mawruss, any fool
could make up an article, Mawruss, but it takes a feller with judgment
to sell it."
CHAPTER XVII
"Did the sponger send up them doctors yet?" said Morris with a far-away
look in his bloodshot eyes, as he entered his place of business at half
past seven one morning in March.
"Doctors?" Abe repeated. "What are you talking about--doctors?"
Morris snapped his fingers impatiently.
"Doctors! Hear me talk!" he cried. "I meant kerseys."
"Listen here, Mawruss," Abe suggested. "What's the use you monkeying
with business to-day? Why don't you go home?"
"Me, I don't take things so particular, Abe," Morris replied.
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