"You shouldn't get mad, Mr. Perlmutter," he said, "if I tell you something?"
"Why should I get mad, Gurin?" Morris asked. "I am coming all the way up here, which I am leaving wife and boy at home to do so—and maybe you don't think she put up a holler, Gurin! So if you wouldn't even consent to do me the favour and look at Mrs. Gladstein, Gurin, and I don't get mad, understand me, why should I get mad if you would tell me something?"
"Well," Gurin commenced, "it ain't much to tell, Mr. Perlmutter. I guess you hear already why I am coming to this country."
Morris elevated his eyebrows.
"I suppose you are coming here like anybody else comes here," he said. "Sooner as stay in the old country and be a Schnorrer all your life, you come over here, ain't it?"
"No, siree, sir," Gurin replied emphatically.
"If I would stay in the old country, Perlmutter, I don't got to be a Schnorrer. Do you know Louis Moses, the banker in Minsk?"
Morris nodded.
"That's from mir an uncle, verstehst du?" Gurin said; "and Zachs, the big corn merchant, that's also an uncle. My father ain't a Schnorrer neither, Mr. Perlmutter; in fact, instead I am sending home money to Russland like most fellers which they come to this country, Mr. Perlmutter, my people sends me money yet."
He jumped from his chair and went to the safe, from which he extracted two crisp Russian banknotes.