Polatkin and Scheikowitz nodded in unison.
"It ain't bad for a start," Scheikowitz volunteered as he sat down and lit a cigar.
"For a finish, neither," Polatkin added, "so far as that's concerned."
Elkan wheeled round in his chair and grinned delightedly.
"And you ought to seen Sol Klinger when we walked into the Hanging Gardens," he said. "He got white like a sheet. It tickled Scharley to death, and he went right to work and put his arm through Mrs. Lesengeld's arm and took her right down to the middle table, like she would be a queen already."
"Sure," Scheikowitz agreed, "what does a real merchant like Scharley care if she would wear a sheitel oder not, so long as she is a lady already."
Elkan's grin spread until it threatened to engulf his ears.
"She didn't wear no sheitel," he said.
"What!" Scheikowitz cried. "I didn't think a religious woman like Mrs. Lesengeld would take off her sheitel at her time of life."
"What d'ye mean her time of life?" Elkan cried indignantly. "Friday afternoon yet before Yetta went home from her place there at Bognor Park, Mrs. Lesengeld says to her that a widder don't got to wear no sheitel if she don't want to, which if you think, Mr. Scheikowitz, that fifty-three is a time of life, understand me, I think differencely, especially when I seen her with her hair all fixed up on Saturday night."