"That may be, Mr. Birsky," Golnik went on, "aber this here proposition which I am putting up to you is a whole lot more important to you as Feigenbaum's order."
Birsky opened his mouth to enunciate a vigorous protest, but Golnik forestalled him by pounding a sample table with his fist in a gesture he had observed only the night before at a lodge meeting of the I.O.M.A. "Yes, Mr. Birsky," he shouted, "if you would want to do away with strikes and loafing in your shop, understand me, now is your chance, Mr. Birsky; because if an operator is got on deposit with his employers ten dollars even, he ain't going to be in such a hurry that he should strike oder get fired."
"Got on deposit ten dollars?" Zapp inquired. "How does our operators come to got with us a deposit of ten dollars, Golnik?"
"It's a very simple thing, Mr. Zapp," Golnik explained: "From the first five weeks' wages of every one of your hundred operators you deduct one dollar a week and keep it in the bank. That makes five hundred dollars."
Zapp nodded.
"Then after that you deduct only twenty-five cents a week," Golnik went on; "aber, at the end of five weeks only, the operator's got ten dollars to his credit—and right there you got 'em where they wouldn't risk getting fired by loafing or striking."
"Aber, if we deduct one dollar a week from a hundred operators for five weeks, Golnik," Zapp commented, "that makes only five hundred dollars, or five dollars to each operator—ain't it?"
"Sure, I know," Golnik replied; "aber you and Mr. Birsky donate yourselves to the mutual aid society five hundred dollars, and——"
"What!" Birsky shrieked. "Zapp and me donate five hundred dollars to your rotten society!"
"Huh-huh," Golnik asserted weakly, and Zapp grew purple with rage.