"What do you think we are, Golnik," he demanded, "millionaires oder crazy in the head? We got enough to do with our money without we should make a present to a lot of low-life bums five hundred dollars."
"Well, then, for a start," Golnik said, "make it three hundred and fifty dollars."
"We wouldn't give three hundred and fifty buttons, Golnik!" Birsky declared savagely. "If you want to be a mutual aid society, Golnik, nobody stops you, aber we wouldn't deduct nothing and we wouldn't donate nothing; so if it's all the same to you, Golnik, you should go ahead on them 1855's and make an end here."
Having thus closed the interview, Louis Birsky turned his back on the disgruntled Golnik, who stood hesitatingly for a brief interval.
"You don't want a little time to think it over maybe?" he suggested.
"Think it over!" Louis bellowed. "What d'ye mean, think it over? If you stop some one which he is trying to pick your pocket, Golnik, would you think it over and let him pick it, Golnik? What for an idee!"
He snorted so indignantly that he brought on a fit of coughing, in the midst of which Golnik escaped, while the bulky figure of One-eye Feigenbaum approached from the elevator.
"What's the matter, boys?" he said as with his remaining eye he surveyed the retreating figure of Jacob Golnik. "Do you got trouble with your designer again?"
Birsky shrugged his shoulders.
"Who ain't got trouble mit a designer, Mr. Feigenbaum?" he asked. "And the better the designer, y'understand, the more you got trouble mit him. Actually, Mr. Feigenbaum, you wouldn't believe the nerve that feller Golnik is got it. If we wouldn't sit on him all the time, understand me, he tries to run our business for us. Nothing is too much that he asks us we should do for him."