"What's the matter mit brown stewed fish sweet and sour, Klinger?" Polatkin asked. "I eat already a lot of a-la's and en cazzerolls in a whole lot of places just so grossartig as the Salisbury, understand me, and I would schenck you a million of 'em for one plate of brown stewed fish sweet and sour like your mother made it from zu Hause yet."
"But what for an interest does a merchant like Scharley got to hear such things," Klinger protested lamely. "Honestly, I was ashamed for your partner's sake to hear such a talk going on there."
"Did Scharley got any objections?" Polatkin asked.
"Fortunately the feller had gone away from the table," Klinger replied, "so he didn't hear it at all."
"Well," Polatkin declared, taking up his knife and fork as a signal that the matter was closed, "ask him and see if he wouldn't a whole lot sooner eat some good brown stewed fish sweet and sour as a Chinese Lantern Dinner—whatever for a bunch of poison that might be, Klinger—and don't you forget it."
Nevertheless when Polatkin returned to his place of business he proceeded at once to Elkan's office.
"Say, lookyhere Elkan," he demanded, "what is all this I hear about you and Yetta taking an old Bubé into the Hanging Gardens already, and making from her laughing stocks out of the whole place."
Elkan looked up calmly.
"It's a free country, Mr. Polatkin," he said, "and so long as I pay my board mit U. S. money, already I would take in there any of my friends I would please."
"Sure, I know," Polatkin expostulated, "but I seen Klinger around at Hammersmith's and he says——"