"All right, Abe," Morris said on the Monday morning after Jake had gone, "you done enough about this here shipping clerk business. Give me a show. I ain't got such liberal idees about shipping clerks as you got, Abe, but all the same, Abe, I think I could go at this business with a little system, y'understand."
"You shouldn't trouble yourself, Mawruss," Abe replied, with an airy wave of his hand. "I hired one already."
"You hired one already, Abe!" Morris repeated. "Well, ain't I got something to say about it too?"
"Again kicking, Mawruss?" Abe exclaimed. "You yourself told me I should find a shipping clerk, and so I done so."
"Well," Morris cried, "ain't I even entitled to know the feller's name at all?"
"Sure you are entitled to know his name," Abe answered. "He's a young feller by the name of Schenkmann."
"Schenkmann," Morris said slowly. "Schenkmann? Where did I—you mean that feller by the name Schenkmann which he works by Max Linkheimer?"
Abe nodded.
"What's the matter with you, Abe?" Morris cried. "Are you crazy or what?"
"What do you mean am I crazy?" Abe said. "We carry burglary insurance, ain't it? And besides he ain't, Mawruss, Max Linkheimer says, missed so much as a button since the feller worked for him."