We got a young lady, honey; we got to put on our thinking-cap."
"'Young lady'--all of a sudden she decides we've got! Young baby, you
better say."
"A graduate this month from Miss Samuels's Central Park School he calls
a baby!"
"Let me see--how old is--"
"He don't know his own child's age! Well, how many years back is it
since we were in rainy-day skirts?"
"My God! Ten--fourteen--eighteen! Eighteen years! Our little Bleema! It
seems yesterday, Rosie, I was learning her to walk along Grand Street."
"You haven't noticed, Roody, David Feist?"
"'Noticed'?"
"Say, you may be a smart man, Rudolph Pelz--everybody tells me you
are--but they should know once on the Picture Rialto how dumb as a
father you are. 'Noticed?' he asks. All right then--if you need a brick
house--noticed that David Feist hates your daughter and 'ain't got eyes
for her and don't try every excuse to get invited here for sup--dinner."
"You mean, Rosie--"
"Of course I mean! It's pitiful how he follows her everywhere with his
eyes. In the box last night at the opera you was too asleep to see it,
but all evening Etta was nudging me how he nearly ate up our Bleema just
with looks.
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