SHOEMAKER FIELITZ is still crouching over his work. On the platform and around it old shoes and boots of every size are heaped up. FIELITZ is hammering a piece of leather into flexibility.
MRS. FIELITZ (formerly MRS. WOLFF) is thoughtfully turning over in her hands a little wooden box and a stearin candle. It is toward evening, at the end of September.
FIELITZ
You get outta this here shop. Go on now!
MRS. FIELITZ
[Briefly and contemptuously.] Who d'you think'll come in here now? It's past six.
FIELITZ
You get outta the shop with that trash o' yours.
MRS. FIELITZ
I wish you wouldn't act so like a fool. What's wrong about this here little box, eh? A little box like this ain't no harm.