"State-rooms, then. What's that boat we sail on, Miriam?"
"Roumania, mamma."
Mr. Shapiro sat suddenly forward in his chair, his eager face thrust forward. "Say, I'm your man!"
"You!"
"Before you get your reservations let me steer you. I got a cousin works down at the White Flag offices—Harry Mansbach. He'll fix you up if there ain't a room left on the boat. He's the greatest little fixer you ever seen."
"Ach, Mr. Shapiro, how grand! To-morrow, Miriam, maybe when you get the berths—"
"State-rooms, mamma."
"State-rooms, maybe Mr. Shapiro will—will go mit."
"Aw, mamma, he—"
"Will I! Well, I guess!"