Jack. Maw al’ays said ’at Dizzy Jim was a dandy to eat!
Town. Boy, keep still there.
Sol. I. (Peering out.) Macher Downsley, dot roof was gone sure enough. Say, I’ll dake a gondragt to repuild dot hotel on a scale of magnifizence suitable to dis greadt state of Dexas.
Town. You a contractor, too? I thought your line was insurance.
Sol. I. Haf you not my gardt alretty? (Gets card.) Read dot gardt. “Solomon Isaacstein, Bromoter.” I bromotes eferyding from ziglone bolicies to hodels oont shtock gombanies. Wherefer dere was gommissions dere was Isaacstein retty for peesness.
Town. Wait till we find out the damages.
Sol. I. Mine frent, der bresent is der only dime. Der bast was brotested oont der future disgounted. I’ll figger on dot gondragt now oont have an esdimate ven der ziglone subsites. (Adolph drops his candle.) Dem gandles vasn’t equal to such an occasion as der bresent. Macher, haf you consiteret dot broposition for elegdrick lights in dis ziglone zellar? (Tremendous flash and splitting thunder.)
Adolph. (Who was nervously trying to light his candle drops it panic stricken.) I say now this is gettin’ to be a beastly boah.
Sol. I. Frent Puterbaugh, allow me. (Lights match.) You vas standin’ in your own lighdt, my tear sir.
Adolph. I should say that I’m standing in me own dark. (Laughs.) Aw, wathaw good joke that, best I’ve made since I left New Yawk. You cawn’t make a good joke in this blawsted country. Climate so vewy depwessing. We’re an awfully witty lot of chaps in the Manhattan Club.