"Faker, am I?" he said. "All right, Mr. Fatkin; if I am a faker I will show you what I would do. You and this here Seiden fix it up between you, because I am all of a sudden sick in the hospital, that you steal away my Bessie and the three hundred dollars also. Schon gut! I would sue you both in the courts und fertig!"
"Sternsilver is right, in a way," Seiden said, "even though he is a bum. What for did you write me this letter, Fatkin?"
"Me write you that letter, Mr. Seiden!" Fatkin protested as he looked at the document in question. "Why, Mr. Seiden, I can't write printing. It is all I can do to write writing. And, besides, Mr. Seiden, until you are telling me about getting married, the idee never enters my head at all."
There could be no mistaking Fatkin's sincerity, and Seiden turned to Sternsilver with a threatening gesture.
"Out!" he cried. "Out of here before I am sending for a policeman to give you arrested."
"Don't make me no bluffs, Seiden!" Sternsilver answered calmly. "Either you would got to settle with me now oder I would go right upstairs and tell them commission houses and customers which you got there all about it. What do you take me for, Seiden—a greenhorn?"
"Fatkin," Seiden commanded, "do you hear what I am telling you? Take this loafer and throw him into the street."
"Me?" Fatkin said. "What are you talking nonsense, Mr. Seiden? I should throw him into the street when I am standing to lose on the coat alone ten dollars!"
Seiden looked at Fatkin and the validity of his objection was at once apparent.
"Nu, Sternsilver," he said. "Be a good feller. Here is five dollars. Go away and leave us alone."