"I come down on the subway with Max Linkheimer this morning, Mawruss," AbePotash said to his partner, Morris Perlmutter, as they sat in the showroomone hot July morning. "That feller is a regular philantropist."
"I bet yer," Morris replied. "He would talk a tin ear on to you if youonly give him a chance. Leon Sammet too, Abe, I assure you. I seen Leon inthe Harlem Winter Garden last night, and the goods he sold while he wastalking to me and Barney Gans, Abe, in two seasons we don't do such abusiness. Yes, Abe; Leon Sammet is just such another one of them fellers likeMax Linkheimer."
"What d'ye mean—'such another one of them fellers like MaxLinkheimer'?" Abe repeated. "Between Leon Sammet and Max Linkheimer is thedifference like day from night. Max Linkheimer is one fine man, Mawruss."
Morris shrugged. "I didn't say he wasn't," he rejoined. "All I says wasthat Leon Sammet is another one of them philantro fellers too, Abe. Talks youdeef, dumb and blind."
Abe rose to his feet and stared indignantly at his partner.
"I don't know what comes over you lately, Mawruss," he cried. "Seeminglyyou don't understand the English language at all. A philantropist ain't aschmooser, Mawruss."
"I know he ain't, Abe; but just the same Max Linkheimer is a feller whichhe got a whole lot too much to say for himself. Furthermo