"Miss Cohn! Miss Cohn!"
"How do you do, Mrs. Ginsburg? I—"
"Sit right down, Miss Cohn—or you and Abie go in the front room till I dish up. You must excuse me the way I holler, but so mad that boy makes me. Just like his poor papa, he makes a long face if his supper is cold, but not once does he come up on time."
"All men are alike, Mrs. Ginsburg—that's what they say about 'em anyway."
"Such a supper we got you'll have to excuse, Miss Cohn. Abie, take them German papers off the chair. Miss Cohn can sit out here a minute if she don't mind such heat. If Abie had taken the trouble to tell me you was coming I'd have fixed—"
"I am glad you don't fix no extras for me, Mrs. Ginsburg. I like to take just pot-luck."
"Abie likes Pfannküchen and pot-roast better than the finest I can fix him, and this morning at Fulton Market I seen such grand green beans; and I said to Yetta, 'I fix 'em sweet-sour for supper; he likes them so.'"
"I love sweet-sour beans, too, Mrs. Ginsburg. My landlady fixes all them German dishes swell."
"Well, you don't mind that I don't make no extras for you? You had a nice vacation? I tell Abie he should take one himself—not? He worked hisself sick last week. I was scared enough about him. Abie, why don't you find a chair for yourself? Why you stand there like—like—"
Even as she spoke the red suddenly ran out of Mrs. Ginsburg's face, leaving it the color of oysters packed in ice.