Walcott went, his knees buckling as he walked.
Abe and Rosey stood motionless. The little Jew’s hands Muttered up and down his coat. He finally said, “You shouldn’t’ve hit him that hand.”
Dillon said nothing. He began to move to the door.
Abe said, “Wait. Don’t go. I guess we gotta thank you for that.”
Dillon turned his head. “Save it,” he said, “I got to get goin’.”
Rosey plucked at Abe’s sleeve. “Give that boy a job, Goldberg,” she said.
Abe looked at her in astonishment. “Why, Rosey…” he began.
Dillon looked at them suspiciously. Standing there in the dim store, his great shoulders hunched, he frightened Abe.
Rosey said, “Go on, Goldberg, give him a break You gotta get a hand some time, so make it now.”
Abe looked timidly at Dillon. “Sure,” he said uneasily. “That’s dead right. I was goin’ to hire me a hand. That’s right. Suppose we talk it over?”