"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. 

 "Because, Fatkin, you are going to be too busy to-day," Seiden replied. "A feller couldn't start in to work as a foreman and also get married all in one day." 

 Hillel stared at his employer. 

 "Me get married, Mr. Seiden! What are you talking nonsense, Mr. Seiden? I ain't going to get married at all." 

 "Oh, yes, you are, Fatkin," Seiden replied. "You are going to get married to Miss Bessie Saphir at New Riga Hall, on Allen Street, to-night, six o'clock sharp; otherwise you wouldn't go to work as foreman at all." 

 Hillel rose from his chair and then sat down again. 

 "Do you mean to told me I must got to marry Miss Bessie Saphir before I can go to work as foreman?" he demanded. 

 "You got it right, Fatkin," Seiden said. 

 "Then I wouldn't do no such thing," Fatkin retorted and made for the door. 

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