"If it's a slaughter-house, Jake Goldfogle, I won't work in it."
The altercation had stopped all the work. The shop was strangely quiet. And Jake, his hope of success, his dream of love, trembling about his ears, could hardly keep back his tears. Suddenly he found voice and turned on the other women.
"Vot for do you stop? Vork! Vork, or I'll fire you."
And then coming up close to Yetta he said:—"You come vid me to my office. I vant to talk vid you."
"Why don't you say it here?" she asked defiantly. "I don't care who hears me talk. You got to treat Mrs. Cohen right or I'll quit. The other girls will quit too if they ain't cowards."
"No, no, no," he said, trying to hush her. "You come vid me, Miss Rayefsky."
She hesitated. She had expected him to rage and threaten her; his cringing manner disconcerted her. Anyhow it would give Mrs. Cohen time to breathe, so she reluctantly followed him into the dingy little office. He carefully closed the door.
"I've got sometin' to tell you. I. Vell—Yetta, you be a good girl und not make no trouble in the shop. Und ven de rush season is over, Yetta—I'll, yes, Yetta, I luf you. I'll marry you. You be a good girl und not make trouble, Yetta, und I'll marry you."
If he had threatened to kill her, Yetta would not have been so surprised. She was dumbfounded. And Jake, nervous, frightened, amorous Jake, took her amazed speechlessness for consent. He thought the magnificent generosity of his offer had overpowered her.