"But," Elkan insisted as they proceeded down Lenox Avenue, "shouldn't I say something to the girl?"
"Sure, you should say something to the girl," Rashkind replied; "but, if you couldn't find something to say to a girl like Miss Birdie Maslik, all I could tell you is you're a bigger Schlemiel than you look."
With this encouraging ultimatum, Mr. Rashkind entered the portals of a hallway that glittered with lacquered bronze and plaster porphyry, and before Elkan had time to ask any more questions he found himself seated with Mr. Rashkind in the front parlour of a large apartment on the seventh floor.
"Mr. Maslik says you should be so good and step into the dining room," the maid said to Mr. Rashkind. Forthwith he rose to his feet and left Elkan alone in the room, save for the presence of the maid, who drew down the shades and smiled encouragingly on Elkan.
"Ain't it a fine weather?" she asked.
Elkan looked up, and he could not resist smiling in return.
"Elegant," he replied. "It don't seem like summer was ever going to quit."
"It couldn't last too long for me," the maid continued. "Might some people would enjoy cold weather maybe; but when it comes to going up on the roof, understand me, and hanging out a big wash, the summer is good enough for me."
Elkan gazed for a moment at her oval face, with its kindly, intelligent brown eyes.
"You mean to say you got to do washing here?" he asked in shocked accents.