a hurry that
he should strike _oder_ get fired."

"Got on deposit ten dollars?" Zapp inquired. "How does our operators
come to got with us a deposit of ten dollars, Golnik?"

"It's a very simple thing, Mr. Zapp," Golnik explained: "From the first
five weeks' wages of every one of your hundred operators you deduct one
dollar a week and keep it in the bank. That makes five hundred
dollars."

Zapp nodded.

"Then after that you deduct only twenty-five cents a week," Golnik went
on; "_aber_, at the end of five weeks only, the operator's got ten
dollars to his credit--and right there you got 'em where they wouldn't
risk getting fired by loafing or striking."

"_Aber_, if we deduct one dollar a week from a hundred operators for
five weeks, Golnik," Zapp commented, "that makes only five hundred
dollars, or five dollars to each operator--ain't it?"

"Sure, I know," Golnik replied; "_aber_ you and Mr. Birsky donate
yourselves to the mutual aid society five hundred dollars, and----"

"What!" Birsky shrieked. "Zapp and me donate five hundred dollars to
your rotten society!"

"Huh-huh," Golnik asserted weakly, and Zapp grew purple with rage.

"What do you think we are, Golnik," he demanded, "millionaires _oder_
crazy in the head? We got enough to do with our money without we should
make a present to a lot of low-life bums five hundred dollars."

"Well, then, for a start," Golnik said, "make it three hundred and
fifty dollars."

"We wouldn't give three hundred and fifty buttons, Golnik!" Birsky
declared savagely. "If you want to be a mutual aid society, Golnik,
nobody stops you, _aber_ we wouldn't deduct nothing and we wouldn't
donate nothing; so if it's all the same to you, Golnik, you should go
ahead on them 1855's and make an end here."

Having thus closed the interview, Louis Birsky turned his back on the
disgruntled Golnik, who stood hesitatingly for a brief interval.

"You don't want a little time to think it over maybe?" he suggested.

"Think it over!" Louis bellowed. "What d'ye mean, think it over? If you
stop some one which he is trying to pick your pocket, Golnik, would you
think it over and let him pick it, Golnik? What for an idee!"

He snorted so indignantly that he brought on a fit of coughing, in the
midst of which Golnik escaped, while the bulky figure of One-eye
Feigenbaum approached from the elevator.

"What's the matter, boys?" he said as with his remaining eye he
surveyed the retreating figure