"Sarah, dear!"
"Well, husband?" was her reply.
"I want to have a treat," said Shmuel, as though alarmed at the boldness of the idea.
"What sort of a treat? Shall you go to the swimming-bath to-morrow?"
"Ett! What's the fun of that?"
"Then, what have you thought of by way of an exception? A glass of ice water for supper?"
"Not that, either."
"A whole siphon?"
Shmuel denied with a shake of the head.
"Whatever can it be!" wondered Sarah. "Are you going to fetch a pint of beer?"