"What did I told you?" Markulies cried. "The feller ain't home sick at all. He eats his supper last night, and this morning he is got two eggs for his breakfast even."
"S'nough, Markulies!" Polatkin interrupted. "You got too much to say for yourself. Sit down, Feinermann, and tell us what is the reason Elkan ain't here this morning."
"You tell me and I would tell you," Feinermann replied. "All I know is the feller leaves my house the usual time this morning; only before he goes he acts fresh to my wife like anything, Mr. Polatkin. He kicks the coffee ain't good, even when my wife is giving him two eggs to his breakfast anyhow. What some people expects for three-fifty a week you wouldn't believe at all!"
"What do you mean—three-fifty a week?" Polatkin demanded. "He pays your wife five dollars a week schon six months ago already. He told me so himself."
"I ain't responsible for what that boy tells you," Feinermann said stolidly. "All I know is he pays me three-fifty a week; and you would think he is used to eating chicken every day from zu Hause yet, the way he is all the time kicking about his food."
Markulies snorted indignantly.
"He should got the Machshovos Mrs. Kaller hands it to me," he said—"gekochte Brustdeckel day in, day out; and then I am accused that I steal samples yet! I am sick and tired of it!"
"Stiegen!" Polatkin cried. "Listen here to me, Feinermann. Do you mean to told me the boy ain't paying you five dollars a week board?"
As Feinermann opened his mouth to reply the showroom door opened and Elkan himself entered.
"Loafer!" Scheikowitz roared. "Where was you?"