"What do you mean, sorry?" Mr. Seiden replied. "Believe me, Fatkin, I am glad to be rid of the feller. I could get just as good foremen as him without going outside this factory even—for instance, you."
"Me!" Fatkin cried.
"Sure; why not?" Seiden continued. "A foreman must got to be fresh to the operators, anyhow; and if you ain't fresh, Fatkin, I don't know who is."
"Me fresh!" Fatkin exclaimed.
"I ain't kicking you are too fresh, y'understand," Seiden said. "I am only saying you are fresh enough to be a foreman."
Fatkin shrugged. "Very well, Mr. Seiden," he said in a manner calculated to impress Seiden with the magnitude of the favour. "Very well; if you want me to I would go to work as foreman for you."
Seiden with difficulty suppressed a desire to kick Hillel and smiled blandly.
"Schon gut," he said. "You will go to work Monday morning."
"Why not to-day, Mr. Seiden?" Hillel asked.
Seiden smiled again and this time it was not so bland as it was mechanical, suggesting the pulling of an invisible string.