"Just dis vonce. Grant me dis, and I vill nevair ask anyding of you in all my life."
"No, no. Don't bother, Pinchas. Go away now," said Wolf, getting annoyed. "I have lots to do."
"I vill never gif you mine ideas again!" said the poet, flashing up, and he went out and banged the door.
The labor-leader settled to his papers with a sigh of relief.
The relief was transient. A moment afterwards the door was slightly opened, and Pinchas's head was protruded through the aperture. The poet wore his most endearing smile, the finger was laid coaxingly against the nose.
"Just von leedle speech, Simon. Tink how I lof you."
"Oh, well, go away. I'll see," replied Wolf, laughing amid all his annoyance.
The poet rushed in and kissed the hem of Wolf's coat.
"Oh, you be a great man!" he said. Then he walked out, closing the door gently. A moment afterwards, a vision of the dusky head, with the carneying smile and the finger on the nose, reappeared.
"You von't forget your promise," said the head.