"You did!" Elkan exclaimed. "Well, why didn't you tell me that, Kapfer?"
"I couldn't think of everything," Kapfer protested.
"Go ahead," Elkan said, turning to Fischko; "let me know all about her—everything! I think I got a right to know—ain't it?"
"Sure you have," Fischko said as he cleared his throat oratorically; and therewith he began a laudatory biography of Yetta Silbermacher, while Elkan settled himself to listen. With parted lips and eyes shining his appreciation, he heard a narrative that justified beyond peradventure his choice of a wife, and when Fischko concluded he smote the table with his fist.
"By jiminy!" he cried. "A feller should ought to be proud of a wife like that!"
"Sure he should," Kapfer said; "and her and Fischko would be down at my room at the Prince Clarence to-morrow at two."
He beckoned to the waiter. "So let's pay up and go home," he concluded; "and by to-morrow night Fischko would got two matches to his credit."
"K'mo she-néemar," Fischko said as he rose a trifle laboriously to his feet, "it is commanded to promote marriages, visit the sick and bury the dead."
"And," Kapfer added, "you'll notice that promoting marriages comes ahead of the others."