"Where is he?" Max cried.
Abe led the way to a table.
"He's where he should have been schon long since already," he said as they sat down. "He's got a job and he's going to make good on it."
"What are you talking nonsense?" Max exploded. "Where is my Sidney? His mother is pretty near crazy."
"She shouldn't worry," Abe replied calmly. "The boy is coming home to-night; and if I would be you, Max, I would see to it he pays anyhow eight dollars a week board."
Once more Max grew white—with anger this time.
"Jokes you are making with me!" he bellowed. "Tell me where my boy is quick or I'll—"
"Koosh, Max!" Abe interrupted. "You are making a fool of yourself. I ain't hiding your boy. Just listen a few minutes and I'll tell you all about it."
Forthwith he unfolded to Max a vivid narrative of that morning's adventures; when he concluded Max had grown somewhat calmer.
"But, Potash," he protested, "I don't want the boy he should work by somebody else. Let him come and sell goods by me."