"Feel, Birdie, my arm. Last summer your thumbs wouldn't have met."
"I said to mamma when we saw you at the matinée last week, Mrs. Silverman, you're grand and thin!"
"You try a little lemon in your hot water, Birdie. But you're not too stout—I should say not! You're grand and tall and can stand it."
"Grand and tall!" echoed Mrs. Gump.
"It's a wonder she isn't as thin as a match, Mrs. Gump, the way that girl does society! Last night it was two o'clock when she got home from Jeanette Lefkowitz's party."
"I wish you'd heard the grand things Marcus said about you this morning at breakfast, Miss Birdie! I bet your ears were ringing. It's not often that he talks, either, when he's been out."
"What's this grand news I hear, Mrs. Gump, about your son being taken in the firm and made manager of the new Loeb factory? It's wonderful for a boy to work himself up with a firm like that."
"There's nothing sure about it yet, Mrs. Silverman. How such things get out I don't know. Marcus is a good boy; and, believe me or not, we think he's got a future with the firm. But you know how it is—there's nothing settled yet, and I don't believe in counting your chickens before they are hatched."
"I wish it to you, Mrs. Gump," purred Mrs. Katzenstein. "I wish the good luck to you."
"You don't make it diamonds, Mrs. Kronfeldt, unless you got to."