"Transfer nothing!" Birsky retorted. "I am going over to the Kosciusko Bank, understand me, and I am going to change that account. So, when them Roshoyim come in here, Zapp, tell 'em to wait till I get back. By hook or by crook we must got to get 'em to come to work by to-morrow sure, the way we would be rushed here—even if we must pay 'em a hundred dollars apiece!"
Zapp nodded fervently.
"Aber why must you got to go over to the bank now, Birsky?" he insisted.
"Because I don't want to take no more chances," Birsky replied; "which I would not only put in the 'as,' understand me, but I would write on the bank's signature card straight up and down what the thing really is"—he coughed impressively to emphasize the announcement—"Louis Birsky," he said, "as Treasurer of the Mutual Aid Society Employees of Birsky & Zapp!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MOVING PICTURE WRITES
When Max Schindelberger opened the door leading into the office of Lesengeld & Belz his manner was that of the local millionaire's wife bearing delicacies to a bedridden laundress, for Max felt that he was slumming.
"Is Mr. Lesengeld disengaged?" he asked in the rotund voice of one accustomed to being addressed as Brother President three nights out of every week, and he cast so benevolent a smile on the stenographer that she bridled immediately.
"Mis-ter Lesengeld," she called, and in response B. Lesengeld projected his torso from an adjacent doorway.