"I tell you the truth, Mawruss," he said, turning around, "the loft ain't bad. It's a good-looking loft, Mawruss, only it's certain sure we couldn't have no machines in that loft."
"Ai vai!" Goldman exclaimed, rocking to and fro in his chair and striking his head with his clenched fist.
"Nu Goldman?" Morris asked. "What's the trouble with you?"
"Troubles enough he got it, Mawruss," Abe said, as he watched Goldman's evolutions of woe. "If we do away with our machines he loses his job; ain't it?"
Sympathy seemed only to intensify Goldman's distress.
"Better than that he should make me dizzy at my stomach to watch him, Abe," Morris said. "I got a suggestion."
Goldman ceased rocking and looked up.
"I got a suggestion, Abe," Morris went on, "that we sell it our machines on long terms of credit to Goldman, and he should go into the contracting business; ain't it?"
"Ai vai!" Goldman cried again, and commenced to rock anew.
"Stop it, Goldman," Abe yelled. "What's the trouble now?"