"Aw, she is, too!"
"I asks her, 'Momsey, are you a Gentile?'" went on Ikey. "Und she answers to me, 'Ikey, I am all kinds of religions.'—Now!"
"Ain't her mother a Gentile?" demanded Henry.
"I'm glat to say it!"
"And her father was."
"Sure! Just go in und look at him!"
"Then what's the matter with you! She's got to be a Gentile!"
Ikey recognized the unanswerableness of the argument. "Vell," he declared stoutly, "I lof her anyhow!"
A fourth boy leaned from a drawing-room window. "Telephone!" he called down.
"Ach! Dat telephone!" Ikey propped himself against the sun-dial. "Since yesterday afternoon alretty, she rings und nefer stops! 'Vere iss Miss Hattie?'—dat Wallace, he iss awful lofsick! 'I don't know.' 'Vere iss Miss Susan?' 'I don't know.' 'Vere iss my daughter?'—de olt lady! 'I don't know.'—All night by dat telephone, I sit und lie!"