"Well, twenty-two fifty," Morris amended. "Comes to about the same with cash discount. Flachsman tells me he seen the kind of loft we got and knows it also the measurements; so I think to myself what's the use waiting. Abe wants it we should buy the fixtures, and we ain't got no time to lose. So I signed the contract."
Abe sat down heavily in the nearest chair and pushed his hat back from his forehead.
"Yes, Mawruss," he said bitterly, "that's the way it goes when a feller's got a partner what is changeable like Paris fashions. You are all plain one minute, and the next you are all soutache and buttons. This morning you wouldn't buy no fixtures, not if you could get 'em for nix, and a couple hours later you throw it away two thousand dollars in the streets."
Morris glared indignantly at his partner.
"You are the changeable one, Abe," he cried, "not me. This morning old fixtures to you is junk. Ain't it? You got to have new fixtures and that's all there is to it. But now, Abe, new fixtures is poison to you, and you got to have second-hand fixtures. What's the matter with you, anyway, Abe?"
"I told it you a dozen times already, Mawruss," Abe replied, "them ain't no exactly second-hand fixtures what Rifkin got it. Them fixtures is like new—fine mahogany partitions and plated glass."
"That's what we bought it, Abe," Morris said, "fine mahogany partitions with plated glass. If you
wouldn't jump so much over me, I would of told you about it."
Abe shrugged despairingly.
"Go ahead," he said. "I ain't jumping over you."