"That's fine!" says I. "But won't you be late gettin' over to Grand-st.?"
Izzy was still explainin' how long it was since his folks moved to the West Side, and what swell things they had in the parlor, when Tessie floats out with her new spring lid and princess walkin' suit on. I'm just shovin' out the peace offerin' and gettin' ready to hand over my smoothest josh, when she brushes past like I was part of the wall decoration, squeals, "Oh, Mr. Budheimer!" and begins showin' Izzy some tickets for the grand annual benefit ball of the Shirtwaist Makers' Union, and tellin' him how she was sellin' 'em for her sister, and what a grand time it was goin' to be.
"How much?" says Izzy, tryin' hard to choke it back, but losin' the struggle.
"Seventy-five for a double ticket," says Tessie. "That's the kind you want."
"Maybe I would yet, if I could get a partner," says he.
"Ain't that an awful sad case?" says Tessie. "Nobody's teased me very hard, either."
"You'll go with me, yes?" says Izzy.
"It's awful sudden," says she; "but a chance is a chance. Don't send a cab; the folks in the block might think I was putting on."
And me? Why, I don't show on the chart at all! Right under my nose she does it, and don't even give me a sideways glance.
"Pooh!" says I. "Pooh, pooh!"