Rudnik swallowed his powder.
"You says you could cook," he remarked after he had again settled himself on his pillow. "Tzimmus, for instance, und Fleisch Kugel?"
"Tzimmus und Fleisch Kugel is nothing," she declared. "I don't want to say nothing about myself, understand me, because lots of women to hear 'em talk you would think wonder what cooks they are, and they couldn't even boil a potater even; aber if you could eat my gefüllte Rinderbrust, Mister ——"
"Rudnik," he said as he licked his moist lips, "Harris Rudnik."
"Mister Rudnik," she proceeded, "oder my Tebeches, you would got to admit I ain't so helpless as I look."
"You don't look so helpless," Rudnik commented; "I bet yer you could do washing even."
"Could I?" Miss Duckman exclaimed. "Why, sometimes at the Home I am washing from morning till night, aber I ain't kicking none. It really agrees with me, Mr. Rudnik."
Rudnik nodded. Again he closed his eyes, and had it not been that he swallowed convulsively at intervals he would have appeared to be sleeping. Suddenly he raised himself on his pillow.
"Do you make maybe a good cup coffee also?" he inquired.
"A good cup coffee I make in two ways," Miss Duckman answered. "The first is——"