"It's all very well for you to talk," Babette rejoined; "but you know very well that in your condition you could drop in the street at any time yet."
"Schmooes!" Sam cried. "I am walking by myself for sixty-five years yet and I guess I could continue to do it."
"But Doctor Eichendorfer says——" Babette began.
"What do I care what Doctor Eichendorfer says!" Sam interrupted. "And, furthermore, supposing I would drop in the street—which anybody could slip oncet in a while on a banana peel, understand me—ain't I got cards in my pocket?"
Babette remained silent for a moment, whereat Sam plucked up new courage.
"Why should you bother yourself to schlepp me along like this?" he said. "There's lots of people I could go out with. Ain't it? Take old man Herz oder Mrs. Krakauer—they would be glad to go out walking with me; and oncet in a while I could go and call on Mrs. Schrimm maybe."
"Mrs. Schrimm!" Babette exclaimed. "I'm surprised to hear you talk that way. Mrs. Schrimm for years goes around telling everybody that mommer selig leads you a dawg's life."
"Everybody's got a right to their opinion, Babette," Sam said; "but, anyhow, that ain't here nor there. If you wouldn't want me to go around and see Mrs. Schrimm I wouldn't."
Babette snorted.
"In the first place," she said, "you couldn't go unless I go with you; and, in the second place, you couldn't get me to go there for a hundred dollars."