He dug his hand into his trousers pocket and produced a modest roll of bills, from which he detached six dollars.
"Here is the money," he added, "and you should be here to meet them people at eight o'clock sharp."
On the stroke of eight Milton Jassy returned to Benson's office in the Siddons Theatre Building and again seated himself at his desk in front of the pile of manuscript music. This time, however, he brushed aside the title page of his Opus 47 and spread out an evening paper to beguile the tedium of awaiting Benson's "prospects." Automatically he turned to the department headed Music and Musicians, and at the top of the column his eye fell on the following item:
Ferencz Lánczhid, the Budapest virtuoso, will be the soloist at the concert this evening of the Philharmonic Society. He will play the Tschaikovsky Violin Concerto, Opus 35, and the remainder of the program will consist of Dvorák's Symphony, Aus der Neuen Welt, and the ever-popular Meistersinger Overture.
Jassy heaved a tremulous sigh as he concluded the paragraph and leaned back in his chair, while in his ears sounded the adagio passage that introduces the first movement of the "New World Symphony." Simultaneously the occupant of the next office slammed down his rolltop desk and began to whistle a lively popular melody. It was "Wildcat Rag," and Milton struck the outspread newspaper with his clenched fist. Then rising to his feet he gathered together the loose pages of his "Opus 47" and placed them tenderly in a leather case just as the door opened and Elkan and Yetta entered.
"I hope we ain't late," Elkan said.
"Not at all," Milton replied. "This is Mr. and Mrs. Lubliner—ain't it?"
As he drew forward a chair for Yetta he saluted his visitors with a slight, graceful bow, a survival of his conservatory days.
"Sit down," he said; "we got lots and lots of time."
"I thought the show started at a quarter-past eight—ain't it?" Elkan asked.