"Mr. Schnitt's eyes are bad," suggested Johnny hopefully.
"My eyes are like a young man's!" asserted Schnitt, his pride coming uppermost.
"He needs a month to rest them," insisted the buffer, becoming a trifle panic-stricken; and he tapped the sole of Ersten's shoe with his foot.
"Must it take a month, Heinrich?" implored Ersten, taking the cue.
"Well, how soon you move?" inquired Schnitt.
"I don't promise I move!" flared Ersten.
"I never come back—"
"Till his eyes are better," hastily interrupted Johnny. "Look here, you fellows! You're balling up this rehearsal! Now let's get together. Schnitt, you'll come back to work in this place, won't you?"
"Well, I say it anyhow," admitted Schnitt reluctantly.
"Ersten, you offer him a month to rest his eyes, don't you?"