"All right, Lesengeld," he said; "write Rudnik we would extend the mortgage and he should call here to-morrow."
"If I got to lose the house I got to lose it," Harris Rudnik declared as he sat in B. Lesengeld's revolving chair on the following morning. "I ain't got long to live anyhow."
He tucked his hands into his coat-pocket and glared balefully at Schindelberger, who shrugged his shoulders.
"That's the way he is talking right along," he said. "Did you ever hear the like? Mind you, it ain't that he's got anybody he should leave the house to, Mr. Belz, but he ain't got no use for women."
"What d'ye mean, I ain't got no use for women?" Rudnik cried. "I got just so much use for women as you got it, aber not for a lot of women which all their lives men make suckers of themselves working their heads off they should keep 'em in luxury, understand me, and then the men dies, y'understand, right away the widders is put in homes and other men which ain't related to 'em at all must got to leave 'em their hard-earned Geld, Mr. Belz, so they could sit with their hands folded doing nothing."
"What are you talking nonsense doing nothing!" Schindelberger retorted. "Them old women works like anything up there. I told you before a dozen times, Rudnik, them women is making underwear and jelly and stockings and Gott weiss was noch."
Rudnik turned appealingly to Belz.
"Mr. Belz," he said, "do me the favour and let me leave my money to a Talmud Torah oder a Free Loan Association."
"Free Loan Association!" Lesengeld and Belz exclaimed with one voice.