Elkan turned to his partner with a shrug.
"When I was working by B. Gans," the cutter went on, "I am laying out a piece of old gold crêpe mit a silver-thread border, and I assure you, Mr. Lubliner, it has an effect on me like some one would give me a glass of schnapps already."
"Stiegen, Max," said Elkan, moving away, "you got too much to say for yourself."
Max nodded resignedly and continued the spreading of the goods on the cutting table, while Elkan and Scheikowitz walked out of the room.
"That's the new feller I was telling you about," Elkan said. "Meshugganeh Max Merech they call him."
"Meshugga he may be," Scheikowitz replied, "but just the same he's got a couple of good idees also, Elkan. Only this morning he makes Redman the designer pretty near crazy when he says that the blue soutache on that new style 2060 kills the blue in the yoke, y'understand; and he was right too, Elkan. Polatkin and me made Redman change it over."
Elkan shrugged again as he put on his hat and coat preparatory to going home.
"A lot our class of trade worries about such things!" he exclaimed. "So far as they are concerned the soutache could be crimson and the yoke green, and if the price was right they'd buy it anyhow."
"Don't you fool yourself, Elkan," Scheikowitz said while Elkan rang for the elevator. "The price is never right if the workmanship ain't good."