"But," Elkan said, "I ain't looking for no Shidduch."
"S-ssh!" Polatkin hissed. "Her father is B. Maslik, the 'Pants King.' To-morrow night you are going up to see her mit Rashkind, the Shadchen."
"What the devil you are talking about?" Elkan asked.
"Not a word," Polatkin whispered out of one corner of his mouth. "Here comes Scheikowitz—and remember, don't say nothing to him about it. Y'understand?"
Elkan nodded reluctantly as Scheikowitz reappeared from the office.
"Nu, Elkan," Scheikowitz demanded, "are you coming?"
"Right away," Elkan said, and together they proceeded downstairs.
"Well, Elkan," Scheikowitz began when they reached the sidewalk, "you must think we was crazy to send for you just on account of this here Kapfer. Ain't it?"
Elkan shrugged in reply.
"But, as a matter of fact," Scheikowitz continued, "Kapfer ain't got no more to do with it than Elia Hanové; and, even though Polatkin would be such a crank that I was afraid for my life to suggest a thing, it was my idee you should come home, Elkan, because in a case like this delays is dangerous."