at persisted for
nearly six months the Polatkin method of instruction vindicated itself,
and by the end of the year Joseph's speech differed in no way from that
of his employers.

"Ain't it something which you really could say is wonderful the way that
boy gets along?" Philip declared to his partner, as the first
anniversary of Joseph's landing approached. "Honestly, Marcus, that boy
talks English like he would be born here already."

"Sure, I know," Marcus agreed. "He's got altogether too much to say for
himself. Only this morning he tells me he wants a raise to six dollars a
week."

"Could you blame him?" Philip asked mildly. "He's doing good work here,
Marcus."

"Yow! he's doing good work!" Marcus exclaimed. "He's fresh like
anything, Scheikowitz. If you give him the least little encouragement,
Scheikowitz, he would stand there and talk to you all day yet."

"Not to me he don't," Philip retorted. "Lots of times I am asking him
questions about the folks in the old country and always he tells me:
'With greenhorns like them I don't bother myself at all.' Calls his
father a greenhorn yet!"

Marcus flapped his right hand in a gesture of impatience.

"He could call his father a whole lot worse," he said. "Why, that
_Ganef_ ain't even wrote you at all since the boy comes over here. Not
only he's a crook, Scheikowitz, but he's got a heart like a brick."

Philip shrugged his shoulders.

"What difference does it make if he is a crook?" he rejoined. "The boy's
all right anyway. Yes, Marcus, the boy is something which you could
really say is a jewel."

"_Geh weg!_" Marcus cried disgustedly--"a jewel!"

"That's what I said," Philip continued--"a jewel. Tell me, Marcus, how
many boys would you find it which they are getting from three to five
dollars a week and in one year saves up a hundred dollars, y'understand,
and comes to me only this morning and says to me I should take the money
for what it costs to keep him while he is learning the language, and for
buying him his clothes when he first comes here. Supposing his father is
a crook, Marcus, am I right or wrong?"

"Talk is cheap, Scheikowitz," Marcus retorted. "He only says he would
pay you the money, Scheikowitz, ain't it?"

Philip dug down into his pocket and produced a roll of ragged one and
two dollar bills, which he flung angrily on to a sample table.

"Count 'em," he said.

Marcus shrugged again.

"What is it my business?" he said. "And anyhow, Schei