CHAPTER EIGHT
COERCING MR. TRINKMANN
"I don't know, Mr. Trinkmann, what comes over you, you are alwayspicking on me," Louis Berkfield said. "Me, I am doing my best here."
"You are doing your best here, Louis!" Harris Trinkmann exclaimed. "Doyou call them ashtrays doing your best? They got on them _Schmutz_ fromthe time I bought 'em off of Dreiner which he busted up way before theSpanish War already. The knives and forks, too, Louis. Do you thinkit's a pleasure to a customer when he is eating _Kalbfleisch_ that hefinds on his fork a piece of Bismarck herring from last night already?You are ruining my trade, Louis."
"What do you mean, ruining your trade, Mr. Trinkmann?" Louis rejoined."I ain't no pantryman. If the customers complains that the fork got onit a piece Bismarck herring, that is from the pantryman a _Schuld_.What have I got to do with herring on the forks?"
"You got everything to do with it," Trinkmann declared. "A pantryman isa feller which no one could depend upon, otherwise he wouldn't be apantryman, Louis; but a waiter, that's something else again. If awaiter wouldn't see that the forks ain't _schmutzig_, who would see it?The trouble is here nobody takes any interest at all. Me, I got to doeverything myself."
Mr. Trinkmann returned to the cashier's desk over which Mrs. Trinkmannhabitually presided, and taking a cigarette pen-fashion twixt thumb andforefinger, he lit it slowly and threw away the match with a gesturethat implied more strongly than words, "I am sick and tired of thewhole business."
The fact was that Mr. Trinkmann had undergone that morning as much asone man could endure without the relief that profanity affords. To beprecise, only three hours before, Mrs. Trinkmann had presented him withtwins, both girls.
"The thing has got to stop sometime, Louis," he said, as he came frombehind the desk. He referred, however, to the ashtrays and the forks."Either you would got to turn around a new leaf, or you could act likea slob somewheres else, understand me, because I wouldn't stand for ithere."
"What are you talking nonsense--act like a slob, Mr. Trinkmann?" Louiscried. "I am working here for you now six years next _Tishabav_, andeverybody which comes here in the place I always give 'em goodsatisfaction."
"You got too swell a head, Louis," Mr. Trinkmann continued, gainingheat. "You would think you was a partner here the way you act. You talkto me like I would be the waiter and you would be the boss. What do youthink I am, anyway?"
"But, Mr. Trinkmann----" Louis began.
"Things goes from bad to worst," Trinkmann went on, his voice rising toa bellow. "You treat me like I would be a dawg."
"_Aber_, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis whimpered, "I----"
"_Koosh!_" Trinkmann shouted. "I got enough of your _Chutzpah_. I amthrough with you. Comes three o'clock this afternoon, you would quit.D'ye hear me?"
Louis nodded. He would have made some articulate protest, but hisAdam's apple had suddenly grown to the dimensions of a dirigibleballoon; and though there surged through his brain every manner ofretort, ironical and defiant, he could think of nothing better to dothan to polish the ashtrays. Polishing powder and rags alone could nothave produced the dazzling brilliancy that ensued. It was a sense ofinjustice that lent force to every rub, and when he began to clean theforks Louis imparted to his labour all the energy of a dischargedwaiter wringing his employer's neck.
Before he had half concluded his task the other waiters arrived, forLouis was but one of a staff of three, with the distinction that thoughhis two associates were only dinner waiters, Louis served breakfast,dinner, and supper. Marcus, the elder of the two, bore a brown-paperpackage with an air of great solemnity, while Albert, his companion,perspired freely in spite of a chill March air blowing outside.
"Mr. Trinkmann," Marcus began, "Louis telephones me this morning whichyou got a couple new arrivals in your family and----"
"Louis!" Trinkmann roared, and Louis in response approached the deskwith the polishing cloth in his hand. "Do you mean to told me you areusing the telephone without asking me?"
"I thought, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis hastened to explain, "that so longyou got in your family----"
"What is it your business _what_ I got in my family?" Trinkmann asked.
Louis' eyes kindled and he gave free play to his indignation.
"For you I don't care at all, Mr. Trinkmann," he said, "but for Mrs.Trinkmann which she is always acted to us like a lady, understand me, Iam telephoning Marcus he should bring with him a few flowers, Mr.Trinkmann, which if you wouldn't take 'em to her, we could easy send'em up by a messenger boy, and here is a nickel for using thetelephone."
He plunged his hand into his trousers-pocket and dashed a coin on tothe desk. Then, reaching behind him with both hands, he untied hisapron. "Furthermore," he said, "I wouldn't wait till three o'clock, Mr.Trinkmann. Give me my money and I would go now."
"Pick up that apron, Louis," Trinkmann commanded, "because, so sure asI am standing here, if you wouldn't wait on the customers till threeo'clock I wouldn't pay you not one cent."
"So far as that goes, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis commenced, "I ain't----"
"And if you get fresh to me _oder_ to the customers, Louis," Trinkmannconcluded, "you wouldn't get your money, neither."
"Did the customers ever done me anything, Mr. Trinkmann?" Louisretorted. "Why should I get fresh to the customers which every one ofthem is my friends, Mr. Trinkmann? And as for getting fresh to you, Mr.Trinkmann, if I would want to I would. Otherwise not."
With this defiance Louis picked up his polishing cloth and his apronand proceeded to the kitchen, to which Marcus and Albert had alreadyretreated. His courage remained with him until he had refastened hisapron, and then he discerned Marcus and Albert to be regarding him withso mournful a gaze that the balloon again expanded in his throat, andforthwith--to pursue the simile further--it burst. He opened the doorleading from the kitchen to the paved space littered with packingboxes, which had once been the backyard, and despite the cold Marchweather he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
Ten minutes later the first luncheon customer arrived and Louishastened to wait upon him. It was Max Maikafer, salesman for Freesam,Mayer & Co., and he greeted Louis with the familiarity of six years'daily acquaintance.
"_Nu_, Louis," he said, "what's the matter you are catching such a coldin your head?"
Louis only sniffled faintly in reply.
"A feller bums round till all hours of the night, understand me," Maxcontinued, "and sooner or later, Louis, a lowlife--a _Shikkerer_--giveshim a _Schlag_ on the top from the head, _verstehest du_, and he wouldgot worser as a cold, Louis."
Louis received this admonition with a nod, since he was incapable ofcoherent speech.
"So, therefore, Louis," Max concluded, as he looked in a puzzledfashion at Louis' puffed eyelids, "you should bring me some _Kreploch_soup and a little _gefuellte Rinderbrust_, not too much gravy."
He watched Louis retire to the kitchen and then he motioned to Albert,who was industriously polishing the glasses at a nearby table.
"What's the matter with Louis, Albert?" he asked.
"Fired," Albert said out of the corner of his mouth, with one eye onthe cashier's desk, where Mr. Trinkmann was fast approaching theborderline of insanity over a maze of figures representing the previousday's receipts.
"What for?" Max asked.
"I should know what for!" Albert exclaimed. "The boss is mad on accounthe got twins, so he picks on Louis that the ashtrays ain't clean andthe forks, neither. So Louis he don't say nothing, and Trinkmann getsmad and fires him."
He glanced furtively at the cashier's desk just as Trinkmann suddenlytore up his paperful of figures, and in one frightened bound Albert wasonce more at his glass polishing.
"Well, Trinkmann," Max cried, as he made ready to absorb the soup bytucking one corner of his napkin into the top of his collar, "I mustgot to congradulate you."
Trinkmann was on his way to the kitchen for the purpose of abusing thepantryman as a measure of relief to his figure-harried brain. H
e pausedat Max's table and distorted his face in what he conceived to be anamiable grin.
"No one compels you to congradulate me, Mr. Maikafer," he said, "and,anyhow, Mr. Maikafer, with business the way it is, understand me, twinsain't such _Simcha_, neither."
"Sure, I know," Max rejoined; "but so far as I could see, Trinkmann,you ain't got no kick coming. You do a good business here. You gotthree good waiters and the customers don't complain none."
"Don't they?" Trinkmann grunted.
"Not at the waiters, Trinkmann," Max said significantly. "And the foodis all right, too, Trinkmann. The only thing is, Trinkmann, when afeller got a nice _gemuetlicher_ place like you got it here, y'understand,he should do his bestest that he keeps it that way."
Trinkmann's smile became a trifle less forced at Max's use of theadjective _gemuetlicher_, for which the English language has no justequivalent, since it at once combines the meanings of cozy,comfortable, good-natured, and homelike.
"Certainly, I am always trying to keep my place _gemuetlich_, Mr.Maikafer," Trinkmann declared, "but when you got waiters, Mr. Maikafer,which they----"
"Waiters ain't got nothing to do with it, Trinkmann," Max interrupted."On Sutter Avenue, Brownsville, in boom times already was a feller--stilla good friend of mine--by the name Ringentaub, which runs a restaurant,Trinkmann, and everybody goes there on account he keeps a place whichyou could really say was _gemuetlich_. The chairs was old-fashioned,_mit_ cane seats into 'em, which they sagged in the right place, sothat if you was sitting down, y'understand, you _knew_ you was sittingdown, not like some chairs which I seen it in restaurants, Trinkmann,which if you was sitting down, you might just as well be standing upfor all the comfort you get out of it."
"The chairs here is comfortable," Trinkmann remarked.
"Sure, I know," Max continued. "Then in this here restaurant was tableswhich they only got 'em in the old country--big, heavy tables,understand me, which you pretty near kill yourself trying to move 'emat all. A feller sits at such a table, Trinkmann, and right away hethinks he must drink a cup coffee; and not alone that, Trinkmann, buthe must got to order coffee for the crowd. He couldn't even helphimself, Trinkmann, because such a table makes you feel good to look atit. That's what it is to keep a _gemuetlicher_ place, Trinkmann."
Trinkmann nodded and sat down at Max's table.
"Furthermore, Trinkmann," Max continued, "everything in the place wasthe same. The ashtrays was from brass like them there ashtrays you usedto got here, Trinkmann."
Max looked meaningly at the burnished brass utensil that stood in themiddle of the table.
"That's the same ashtrays which we always got here," Trinkmannretorted.
"Are they?" Max said. "Well, somebody must of done something to 'em onaccount they don't look so _gemuetlich_ no longer. That's the samemistake Ringentaub made it, Trinkmann. He ain't satisfied he is gotsuch a big trade there, Trinkmann, but he must go to work and get apartner, a feller by the name Salonkin, which he pays Ringentaub twothousand dollars for a half interest in the business. Salonkin is oneof them fellers, understand me, which is all for improvements,Trinkmann. _Gemuetlichkeit_ is something which he don't know nothingabout at all, y'understand, and the first thing you know, Trinkmann,Salonkin says the chairs is back numbers. He fires 'em right out ofthere, understand me, and buys some new chairs, which actually for athin man to sit on 'em for five minutes even would be something whichyou could really call dangerous. Also the tables Salonkin says is junk,so he sells 'em for fifty cents apiece and puts in them marble-toptables like a lot of tombstones in a cemetery."
"Marble-top tables is anyhow clean," Trinkmann declared.
"Clean they may be," Max admitted, "but _gemuetlich_ they ain't. And,anyhow, Trinkmann, do you know what started the whole trouble there?"
Trinkmann shook his head.
"Well, it was the forks," Max said solemnly. "The forks whichRingentaub got it before he goes as partners together with Salonkinalways looks like they would be a little dirty, understand me. So whatdoes the customer do, Trinkmann? They take first thing after they sitdown the fork in hand, understand me, and dip it in the glass of waterwhich the waiter brings 'em. Then when the time comes which they wantto drink the water, Trinkmann, they remember they cleaned the fork init and they order instead a glass of beer. Afterward when Salonkintakes ahold there, y'understand, he raises hell with the waiters theyshould keep clean the forks, which they done it, Trinkmann, because thefeller Salonkin was a regular _Rosher_, understand me, and the waitersis scared to death of him. What is the result, Trinkmann? The sales ofbeer right away drops to nothing, understand me, and everybody drinksthe glass water instead."
At this juncture Trinkmann looked up and observed Albert at work on thetumblers.
"Albert!" he cried. "Leave the glasses alone, d'ye hear me?"
Albert put down the glass he was wiping and commenced to rub the knivesand forks, whereat Trinkmann jumped to his feet.
"The forks, neither," he yelled. "Instead you should be standing therewasting your time, fill up with water the glasses and tell Louis nevermind, he shouldn't polish any more them ashtrays."
* * * * *
When Max Maikafer concluded his lunch he proceeded at once to thecashier's desk, over which Trinkmann himself presided.
"Cheer up, Trinkmann," he said, as he paid his check. "You got a faceso solemn like a rich uncle just died and left you to remember him by acrayon portrait."
"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Maikafer," Trinkmann said, "I got all I couldstand to-day. Not alone my wife goes to work and has twins on me, Mr.Maikafer, but I also got to fire a feller which is working for me heresix years."
"What d'ye mean?" Max cried in well-feigned astonishment. "You aregoing to fire Albert?"
"Not Albert," Trinkmann said; "Louis."
"Why, what did Louis done?" Max asked.
"He done enough, Mr. Maikafer," Trinkmann replied. "Here lately he getsto acting so fresh you would think he owns the place."
"Well, why not?" Max commented. "After all, Trinkmann, you got to giveLouis credit; he works hard here and he keeps for you many a customer.Because I want to tell you something, Trinkmann, which I am only sayingit for your own good, understand me--there's lots of times you areacting so grouchy to the customers that if it wouldn't be Louissmoothes 'em down they wouldn't come near your place at all."
"What the devil are you talking about?" Trinkmann shouted. "If youwasn't such a big fool you would know I am always polite to mycustomers. Furthermore, I never lost a customer since I am in business,and if you don't like the way I run my restaurant you don't got to comehere. That's all."
Maikafer nodded as he pocketed his change.
"All right, Trinkmann," he said. "But you know what happens when aconcern lets a salesman go. He easy finds a partner and starts to dobusiness with his old firm's customers on his own account."
Trinkmann laughed aloud.
"That _Schnorrer_ ain't got money enough to stock a pushcart, let alonea restaurant," he jeered.
"That's all right," Maikafer retorted. "I know a feller which runs foryears a place in East New York--Brownsville--Trinkmann, and when hehears Louis ain't working, not only he would be glad to give him a jobas waiter, but he would stake him to an interest in the restaurantyet."
Trinkmann flapped his right hand at Maikafer in a gesture of derision.
"_Schmooes!_" he cried.
"No _Schmooes_ at all," Max said, as he passed out of the door. "He'sthe feller I am talking to you about by the name Ringentaub, and acrossthe street is plenty vacant stores."
Ten minutes after Max had departed Simon Feinsilver entered.
"Say, Trinkmann," he asked, as he paused at the cashier's desk on hisway to one of Louis' tables, "did you seen it Max Maikafer thismorning?"
Had Trinkmann scrutinized Simon's face with any degree of care he mighthave observed a mischievous gleam in Simon's eyes; but at the meremention of Maikafer's name Trinkmann exploded.
"What d'ye mean, did I seen it Maikafer?" he demanded.
"Why I just asked you," Simon said calmly, "on account he was to meetme at my office and he ain't showed up at all."
"Well, I ain't surprised to hear that, Mr. Feinsilver," Trinkmannrejoined less viciously. "Because even if Maikafer is such a goodfriend of yours, the feller is so busy with other people's business,what he ain't got no business to butt in at all, that his own businesshe lets go to the devil. Am I right or wrong?"
Simon nodded and sat down at one of Louis' tables.
"Albert," Trinkmann cried, "wait on Mr. Feinsilver."
"That's all right," Feinsilver declared; "I got plenty time."
"Albert," Trinkmann repeated, "take Mr. Feinsilver's order."
Albert left his station on the opposite side of the room and approachedFeinsilver with a conciliatory smile.
"What would you like to-day, Mr. Feinsilver?" he said.
"I would like Louis," Feinsilver replied; "so go ahead, Albert, andtell Louis when he gets through serving those two fellers over there towait on me."
"What's the matter you ain't giving your order to Albert, Mr.Feinsilver?" Trinkmann asked.
"Albert is all right," Feinsilver replied, "but Louis knows just how Iwant things, Trinkmann. You ain't got no objections to me waiting forLouis?"
"Why should I got objections, Mr. Feinsilver?" Trinkmann protested.
"I don't know why you should got objections, Trinkmann," Feinsilversaid, "and if you did got 'em I would wait for Louis anyway."
He closed the discussion by spearing half a dill pickle with a fork andinserting it endwise in his mouth. Hardly had the metal tines touchedhis lips, however, than he hastily disgorged the pickle and uttered aresounding "T'phoo-ee!"
"What are you trying to do here to me, Trinkmann?" he demanded. "Poisonme?"
He dipped his napkin into the glass of water that stood on the tableand performed an elaborate prophylaxis about his mouth and teeth.
"What d'ye mean, poison you?" Trinkmann cried.
"Why, there is something here on the fork," Simon declared.
"Let me see," Trinkmann said, advancing to the table; "might it be someBismarck herring, maybe."
"Bismarck herring ain't poison," Feinsilver said, examining the forkclosely. "Bismarck herring never harmed nobody, Trinkmann; but thishere fork has got poison onto it."
He turned it over in his hand and sniffed at it suspiciously.
"Why, bless my soul," he roared. "Somebody has been cleaning it withpolishing powder."
"Well, suppose they did?" Trinkmann said calmly.
"Suppose they did!" Simon exclaimed. "Why, don't you know you shouldnever clean with polishing powder something which it could touch aperson's lips? A friend of mine, by the name Lambdan, once puts hiscigar onto an ashtray which they are cleaning it with this powder, andthe widder sues in the courts the feller that runs the restaurant forten thousand dollars yet. From just putting the cigar in his mouth hegets some of the powder on his tongue, Trinkmann, and in two hours,understand me, he turned black all over. It ruined the restaurantman--a decent, respectable feller by the name Lubliner. His mother wasMax Maikafer's cousin."
Trinkmann grew pale and started for the kitchen.
"Albert," he said huskily, "take from the tables the ashtrays and theforks and tell that pantryman he should wash 'em off right away inboiling water."
He followed Albert, and after he had seen that his instructions wereobeyed he returned to the desk. In the meantime Simon had engaged Louisin earnest conversation.
"Louis," Simon said, "I am just seeing Max Maikafer, and he says youshouldn't worry, because you wouldn't lose your job at all."
"No?" Louis replied. "What for I wouldn't? I am going to get fired thisafternoon sure, three o'clock."
"Never mind," Simon declared, "you shouldn't let him make you nobluffs, Louis. Not only he wouldn't fire you, Louis, but I bet yer hegives you a raise even."
Louis nodded despairingly.
"A couple of kidders like you and Mr. Maikafer ain't got no regards fornobody," he said. "Maybe it is a joke for you and Mr. Maikafer that Iget fired, Mr. Feinsilver, but for me not, I could assure you."
"I ain't kidding you, Louis," Simon declared. "Keep a good face on you,Louis, and don't let on I said something to you. But you could take itfrom me, Louis, comes three o'clock this afternoon you should go to theboss and say you are ready to quit. Then the boss says no, you shouldstay."
"Yow! He would say that!" Louis said bitterly.
"Surest thing you know, Louis," Simon rejoined solemnly. "Me and Maxwill fix it sure. And after the boss says you should stay you tell himno, you guess you wouldn't. Tell him you know lots of people would hireyou right away at two dollars a week more, and I bet yer he would becrazy to make you stay; and if he wouldn't pay you the two dollars aweek more I would, so sure I am he would give it to you."
It was then that Trinkmann returned to the cashier's desk, and Louismoved slowly away just as the telephone bell rang sharply. Trinkmannjerked the receiver from the hook and delivered himself of an explosive"Hallo."
"Hallo," said a bass voice; "is this Mr. Trinkmann?"
"Yep," Trinkmann replied.
"I would like to speak a few words something to a waiter which isworking for you, by the name Louis Berkfield," the voice continued.
Instantly Trinkmann's mind reverted to Maikafer's parting words.
"Who is it wants to talk with him?" he asked.
"It don't make no difference," said the voice, "because he wouldn'trecognize my name at all."
"No?" Trinkmann retorted. "Well, maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't,Mr. Ringentaub; but people which they got the gall to ring up mywaiters and steal 'em away from me in business hours yet, Mr.Ringentaub, all I could say is that it ain't surprising they busted upin Brownsville. Furthermore, Mr. Ringentaub, if you think you couldhire one of them stores acrosst the street and open up a _gemuetlicher_place with Louis for a waiter, y'understand, go ahead and try, but youcouldn't do it over _my_ 'phone."
He hung up the receiver so forcibly that the impact threw down eightboxes of the finest cigars.
"Louis," he shouted, and in response Louis approached from the back ofthe restaurant.
"I am here, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis said, with a slight tremor in histones.
"Say, lookyhere, Louis," Trinkmann continued, "to-morrow morning firstthing you should ring up Greenberg & Company and tell 'em to call andfetch away them eight boxes cigars. What, do them people think I wouldbe a sucker all my life? They stock me up _mit_ cigars till I couldn'tmove around at all."
"But, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis protested, "this afternoon three o'clockyou are telling me----"
"_Koosh!_" Trinkmann roared, and Louis fell back three paces; "don'tyou answer me back. Ain't you got no respect at all?"
Louis made no reply, but slunk away to the rear of the restaurant.
"_Schlemiel!_" Simon hissed, as Louis passed him. "Why don't you standup to him?"
Louis shrugged hopelessly and continued on to the kitchen, while Simonconcluded his meal and paid his check.
"You didn't told me if you seen Max Maikafer to-day?" he said, as hepocketed a handful of tooth-picks.
"I didn't got to told you whether I did _oder_ I didn't," Trinkmannreplied, "but one thing I _will_ tell you, Mr. Feinsilver--I am runninghere a restaurant, not a lumber yard."
* * * * *
At ten minutes to three Trinkmann stood behind the cashier's desk, sothoroughly enmeshed in the intricacies of his wife's bookkeeping thatnot even a knowledge of conic sections would have disentangled him. Forthe twentieth time he added a column of figures and, having arrived atthe twentieth different result, he heaved a deep sigh and looked out ofthe window for inspiration. What little composure remained to him,however, fled at the sight of Max Maikafer, who stood talking to astout person arrayed in a fur overcoat. As they conversed, Max's gazeconstantly reverted to the rest
aurant door, as though he awaited theappearance of somebody from that quarter, while the man in the furovercoat made gestures toward a vacant store across the street. He wasa stout man of genial, hearty manner, and it seemed to Trinkmann thathe could discern on the fur overcoat an imaginary inscription reading:"_Macht's euch gemuetlich hier._"
Trinkmann came from behind the desk and proceeded to the rear of therestaurant, where Louis was cleaning up in company with Marcus andAlbert.
"Louis," he said, "I want you you should go into the kitchen and tellthat pantryman he should wash again the forks in hot water, and staythere till he is through. D'ye hear me?"
Louis nodded and Trinkmann walked hurriedly to the store door. He threwit wide open, after the fashion of the lover in a Palais Royal farcewho expects to find a prying maidservant at the keyhole.
Maikafer stood directly outside, but, far from being embarrassed byTrinkmann's sudden exit, he remained completely undisturbed and greetedthe restaurateur with calm urbanity.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Trinkmann," he said, "ain't it a fine weather?"
Trinkmann choked in mingled rage and indignation, and before he couldsufficiently compose himself to sort out an enunciable phrase from allthe profanity that surged to his lips Maikafer had brought forward theman in the fur overcoat.
"This is my friend, Mr. Ringentaub," he said, "also in the restaurantbusiness."
"I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance," Mr. Ringentaub said. "Before Igot through talking with you on the 'phone this morning some one cut usoff."
At this juncture Trinkmann's pent-up emotion found expression.
"Away from here," he bellowed, after he had uttered a highly colouredpreamble, "away from here, the both of youse, before I call a policemanand make you arrested!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Trinkmann," Maikafer interrupted, "do you got a leaseon the sidewalk, too?"
"Never mind what I got a lease on," Trinkmann said. "You are comingaround here trying to steal away my waiters and----"
"One moment, Mr. Trinkmann," Max said. "We are not trying to steal awayyour waiters at all. Mr. Ringentaub here is a gentleman, even if somepeople which is in the restaurant business don't act that way, Mr.Trinkmann; but as you told me yourself, Mr. Trinkmann, you are firingLouis and he's going to quit you at three o'clock; and as it is nowfive minutes to three----"
"Who is going to quit me at three o'clock?" Trinkmann demanded.
"Louis is," Maikafer said.
"That's where you make a big mistake," Trinkmann cried. "Louis ain'tgoing to quit me at all. Here, I'll show you."
He led the way into the restaurant.
"Come inside, Mr. Ringentaub," he said excitedly. "No one is going toharm you. Come right inside, and I'll show you suckers you aremistaken."
He closed the door after them and almost ran to the kitchen.
"Louis," he said, "come here; I want to talk a few words something toyou."
He grabbed Louis by the arm and led him to the cashier's desk, whereMaikafer and his companion were standing.
"Louis," he said, "tell these gentlemen didn't I told you you shouldring up sure to-morrow morning Greenberg & Company about the cigars?"
Louis nodded and Trinkmann glared triumphantly at his visitors.
"Then if I told him to ring up Greenberg & Company about the cigarsto-morrow morning, understand me," he cried, "how could it be possiblethat he quits me this afternoon?"
"But, Mr. Trinkmann," Louis protested, "you did told me I should quitthis afternoon."
"_Dummer Esel!_" Trinkmann exclaimed. "Couldn't I open my mouth in myown restaurant at all?"
"Well, if that's the case," Ringentaub said, "then Louis could come towork by me. Ain't that right, Louis?"
Louis looked at Max Maikafer, whose right eyelid flutteredencouragingly.
"And I would pay him twenty-eight dollars a month," Ringentaubcontinued, "and guarantee to keep him a year. Is that satisfactory,Louis?"
Louis' tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, but he managed toenunciate a monosyllable of assent.
"That's all right, Mr. Ringentaub," Trinkmann declared; "I would payhim thirty dollars a month and keep him for a year and longer if hewants to stay."
Louis' gaze wandered from Max Maikafer to Trinkmann, and his lower lipjutted out and trembled with gratitude.
"I mean it, Louis," Trinkmann declared. "I mean it from the bottom ofmy heart."
"Then in that case, Louis," Ringentaub retorted, "I would give youthirty-two fifty a month."
Louis shook his head.
"I am working here by Mr. Trinkmann six years come this _Tishabav_," hereplied, "and even if he would only say twenty-eight dollars I would ofstayed anyway."
Max Maikafer turned disgustedly to Ringentaub. "Did you ever hear thelike for a fool?" he said.
"Never mind, Maikafer," Trinkmann interrupted, "even if he would besatisfied with twenty-eight I wouldn't go back on my word. I will payhim thirty dollars a month, and, furthermore, Maikafer, you will see ifhe stays by me a year and does his work good, maybe--who knows--I wouldeven 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," hecontinued, "he ain't responsible for what he says exactly. Especiallyif 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 vacantstore across the street at the very moment when a wagon backed upagainst the curb and the driver and his helper unloaded two largesigns.
"Trinkmann," Mrs. Trinkmann called, "some one rents the store acrosstthe street."
Trinkmann hastened to the door and glanced nervously toward the twosigns. Beads of perspiration sprang out on his forehead as he discernedthe lettering on one of the signboards, which read as follows:
FELIX RINGENTAUB
He uttered a faint groan and was about to communicate to Mrs. Trinkmannthe melancholy tidings that a rival establishment had come into being,when the driver and his helper turned over the second sign. Itcontained the words:
TAILORS' AND DRESSMAKERS' TRIMMINGS
Hardly had Trinkmann recovered from his astonishment when FelixRingentaub himself came hurriedly down the street, accompanied by MaxMaikafer. A moment later they entered the restaurant.
"Why, how do you do, Mrs. Trinkmann?" Max cried, "How's the twins?"
"Getting on fine," Mrs. Trinkmann said.
"Shake hands with my friend, Mr. Ringentaub," Max continued, as helooked meaningly at Trinkmann. "Mr. Ringentaub, up to a couple of weekssince, used to was in the restaurant business in Brownsville. He goesnow into the tailors' and dressmakers' trimmings business instead."
Trinkmann maintained a discreet silence and led them to one of Louis'tables. There he sat down with them, for he was determined to get atthe heart of the mystery.
"Mr. Maikafer----" he began, but Max held up his hand protestingly.
"Ask me no questions, Trinkmann," he said, "and I wouldn't tell you nolies. But one thing I will say, Trinkmann, and that is that Louisdidn't know nothing about it. We conned you into keeping him andraising his wages. That's all. Am I right or wrong, Ringentaub?"
Ringentaub made no reply. He was holding a fork in his hand andexamining it critically.
"Of course, Trinkmann," he said, "I don't want to say nothing the firsttime I am coming into your place, but this here fork's got onto itsomething which it looks like a piece Bismarck herring."
"Don't take it so particular, Ringentaub," Maikafer said, blushingguiltily. "Wash it off in the glass water."
"A glass water you drink, Maikafer," Ringentaub rejoined, "and forksshould be washed in the kitchen. And, furthermore, Trinkmann,"Ringentaub said, "it don't do no harm if the waiters once in a whilecleans with polishing powder the forks."
"I thought, Maikafer," Trinkmann said in funereal tones, "you aretelling me that polishing pow
der is rank poison."
"_I_ didn't told you that," Maikafer replied. "It was Feinsilver saysthat."
"Rank poison!" Ringentaub exclaimed. "Why, you could eat a ton of it."
"Sure, I know," Maikafer concluded; "but who wants to?"
He turned to Louis, who had approached unobserved. "Bring me some_Kreploch_ soup and a plate _gefuellte Rinderbrust_," he said, "not toomuch gravy."
"Give me the same," Ringentaub added, as he gazed about him with theair of an academician at a private view. "You got a nice _gemuetlicher_place here, Mr. Trinkmann," he concluded, "only one thing you shouldput in."
"What's that?" Trinkmann asked.
Maikafer kicked him on the shins, but Ringentaub failed to notice it.
"Marble-top tables," he said.
The Competitive Nephew Page 8
