Mashkowitz, and this here lady is my sister, Mrs. Blooma Sheikman, geborn Smolinski."
"That ain't my fault that you got them names," Abe said. "I see it now that you're my wife's father's brother's daughter, ain't it? So if you're going to make a touch, make it. I got business to attend to."
"We ain't going to make no touch, Potash," Mrs. Mashkowitz declared. "We would rather die first."
"All right," Abe replied heartlessly. "Die if you got to. You can't make me mad."
Mrs. Mashkowitz ignored Abe's repartee.
"We don't ask nothing for ourselves, Potash," she said, "but we got it a sister, your wife's own cousin, Miriam Smolinski. She wants to get married."
"I'm agreeable," Abe murmured, "and I'm sure my Rosie ain't got no objections neither."
Mrs. Sheikman favored him with a look of contempt.
"What chance has a poor girl got it to get married?" she asked.
"When she ain't got a dollar in the world," Mrs. Mashkowitz added. "And her own relatives from her own blood is millionaires already."