Not
even that time in Milan, darlink, when they broke down the doors, was it
like to-night--"
"Ought to seen, ma, the row of police outside--"
"Hush up, Roody! Don't you see your brother is trying to get his
breath?"
From Mrs. Isadore Kantor: "You should have seen the balconies, mother.
Isadore and I went up just to see the jam."
"Six thousand dollars in the house to-night, if there was a cent," said
Isadore Kantor.
"Hand me my violin, please, Esther. I must have scratched it, the way
they pushed."
"No, son, you didn't. I've already rubbed it up. Sit quiet, darlink!"
He was limply white, as if the vitality had flowed out of him.
"God! wasn't it--tremendous?"
"Six thousand, if there was a cent," repeated Isadore Kantor. "More than
Rimsky ever played to in his life!"
"Oh, Izzie, you make me sick, always counting--counting!"
"Your sister's right, Isadore. You got nothing to complain of if there
was only six hundred in the house. A boy whose fiddle has made already
enough to set you up in such a fine business, his brother Boris in such
a fine college, automobiles--style--and now because Vladimir Rimsky,
three times his age, gets signed up with Elsass for a few thousand more
a year, right away the family gets a long face--"
"Ma, please! Isadore didn't mean it that way!"
"Pa's knocking, ma! Shall I let him in?"
"Let him in, Roody.
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