"W-w-why?" Abe stuttered. "Ain't everything all right?"
Mr. Hahn, with an effort that bulged every vein in his bald forehead, subsided into comparative calm.
"Mr. Potash," he said, "I bought from you six bills of goods in the last few months. Ain't it?"
Abe nodded.
"And I never claimed no shortages and never made no kicks nor nothing, but always paid up prompt on the day like a gentleman. Ain't it?"
Abe nodded again.
"And this is what I get for it," Mr. Hahn went on bitterly. "My own niece on my wife's side, I put her in your care. I ask you to take it an interest in her. You promise me you will do your best. You tell me and Max Fried you will look after her"—he hesitated, almost overcome by emotion—"like a father. You said that when I bought the second bill. And what happens? The only chance she gets to make a decent match, you write me the feller ain't no good.
Naturally, I think you got some sense, and so I busts the affair up."
"Well," Abe said, "I did write you he wasn't no good, and he wasn't no good, neither. Ain't he just made it a failure?"
Mr. Hahn grew once more infuriated.