"I mean it, Louis," Trinkmann declared. "I mean it from the bottom of my heart."
"Then in that case, Louis," Ringentaub retorted, "I would give you thirty-two fifty a month."
Louis shook his head.
"I am working here by Mr. Trinkmann six years come this Tishabav," he replied, "and even if he would only say twenty-eight dollars I would of stayed anyway."
Max Maikafer turned disgustedly to Ringentaub. "Did you ever hear the like for a fool?" he said.
"Never mind, Maikafer," Trinkmann interrupted, "even if he would be satisfied with twenty-eight I wouldn't go back on my word. I will pay him thirty dollars a month, and, furthermore, Maikafer, you will see if he stays by me a year and does his work good, maybe—who knows—I would even pay him more yet."
He held out his hand to Louis, who grabbed it effusively.
"When a feller's wife goes to work and has twins on him, Louis," he continued, "he ain't responsible for what he says exactly. Especially if they're both girls."
Three weeks later Mrs. Trinkmann sat behind the cashier's desk, awaiting the luncheon customers, and her eye wandered to the vacant store across the street at the very moment when a wagon backed up against the curb and the driver and his helper unloaded two large signs.