"What's the matter with Kanef, Mr. Birsky?" he asked.
"Kanef is a shipping clerk only, Golnik," Birsky replied; "and you know as well as I do, Golnik, a shipping clerk is got so much influence with the operators like nothing at all. Besides, Golnik, we already got your name in as president, which, if we would change it now, right away we are out twenty dollars we paid Henry D. Feldman this afternoon he should draw up the papers for us."
"So!" Golnik exclaimed. "Feldman draws up the papers!"
"Sure he did," Birsky said; "which, if we started this thing, Golnik, we want to do it right."
Golnik nodded.
"And he would do it right, too, Mr. Birsky," he commented; "which, judging from the contract he is drawing up between you and me last December, an elegant chance them operators is got in such a society."
Birsky patted his designer confidentially on the shoulder.
"What do you care, Golnik?" he said. "You ain't an operator—and besides, Golnik, I couldn't stand here and argue with you all night; so I tell you what I would do, Golnik: come in this here society as president and we wouldn't deduct nothing from your wages at all, and you would be a member in good standing, anyhow."
Golnik shook his head slowly, whereat Birsky continued his confidential patting.
"And so long as the society lasts, Golnik," he said, "we ourselves would pay you two dollars a week to boot."