The sonorous recitation by the Shophet in his crimson and ermine robe somewhat restored Peloni's equanimity.
"But when will the actual city be begun?" he asked.
The Shophet waved his hand airily. "A matter of days."
"But are you sure we can build there?"
"Look at the map. Here is Grand Island—ours! Here is the site of Ararat. It is all as plain as a pikestaff. And, talking of pikestaffs, it would not be a bad idea to plant a staff on Ararat with the flag of Israel."
Peloni took fire: "Yes, yes, let me go and plant it. I'll journey night and day."
"You shall plant it," said the Shophet graciously. "Yes, I'll have the flag made at once. The property man at the Park Theatre will attend to it for me. The Lion of Judah and seven stars."
"It shall be waving on Grand Island before you open the celebration in Buffalo."
Peloni went out like a lion, his head in the seven stars. Could it be possible that to him—Peloni—had fallen the privilege of proclaiming the New Jerusalem!