About Miss Birdie Goldblatt's appearance there was something of Maxine
Elliott with just a dash of Anna Held, and she wore her clothes so well
that she could make a blended-Kamchatka near-mink scarf look like
Imperial Russian sable. Thus, when Philip Margolius encountered her on
the corner of Fifth Avenue and Twenty-first Street his heart fairly
jumped in admiration. Nevertheless, he raised his hat with all his
accustomed grace, and Miss Goldblatt bowed and smiled in return.
"How d'ye do, Miss Goldblatt," he said. "Ain't it a fine weather?"
"Sure it's fine weather," Miss Goldblatt agreed. "Is that all you
stopped me for to tell me it was fine weather?"
"No," Philip said lamely.
"Well, then, I guess I'll be moving on," Miss Goldblatt announced;
"because I got a date with Fannie up on Twenty-third Street."
"One minute," Philip cried. "It was about your sister what I wanted to
speak to you about."
"What have you got to do with my sister Fannie?" Miss Goldblatt
demanded, glaring indignantly at Margolius.
"Why," Philip replied on the spur of the moment, "I got a friend what
wants to be introduced to her, a--now--feller in the--now--cloak
business."
Miss Goldblatt regarded Philip for one suspicious moment.
"What's his name?" she asked abruptly.
A gentle perspiration broke out on Philip's forehead. He searched his
mind for the name of some matrimonially eligible man of his
acquaintance, but none suggested itself. Hence, he sparred for time.
"Never mind his name," he said jocularly. "When the time comes I'll
tell you his name. He's got it a good business, too, I bet yer."
Miss Goldblatt grew somewhat mollified.
"Why don't you bring him down to the house some night?" she suggested,
whereat Philip could not forbear an ironical laugh.
"I suppose your father would be delighted to see me, I suppose. Ain't
it?" he said.
"What's he got to do with it?" Miss Goldblatt asked. "Do you think
because he's called in them second mortgages that me and Fannie would
stand for his being fresh to you if you was to come round to the house?"
"No, I don't," Philip replied; "but just the same, anyhow, he feels sore
at me."
"He's got a right to feel sore at you," Miss Goldblatt interrupted. "You
come a dozen times to see my sister, and then----"
"That's where you are mistaken," Philip cried; "I come once, the first
time, to see your sister, and the other times I come to see _you_."
"Ain't you got a nerve?" Miss Goldblatt exclaimed.
"Why do I got a nerve?" Philip asked. "Miss Goldblatt--Birdie, what's
the matter with me, anyway? I'm young yet--I ain't only thirty-two--and
I got a good name in the cloak and suit business as a salesman. Ask
anybody. I can make it my five thousand a year easy. And supposing I am
a foreigner? There's lots of up-to-date American young fellers what
couldn't keep you in hairpins, Birdie."
He paused and looked pleadingly at Birdie, who tossed her head in reply.
"Them houses up in the Bronix," he said, "that's a misfortune what could
happen anybody. If I got to let 'em go I'll do it. But pshaw! I could
make it up what I lost in them houses with my commissions for one good
season already."
"Well, my sister Fannie----" Birdie commenced.
"Never mind your sister Fannie," Philip said. "I will look out for her.
If you and me can fix it up, Birdie, I give you my word and honour as a
gentleman I will fix it up for Fannie a respectable feller with a good
business."
He paused for an expression of opinion from Birdie, but none was
forthcoming.
"What are you doing to-night?" he asked.
"Fannie and me was----" she began.
"Not Fannie--_you_," he broke in. "Because I was going to suggest if you
ain't doing nothing might we would go to theaytre?"
"Well, sure," Birdie continued. "Fannie and me could go and we wouldn't
say nothing to the old man about it."
"Looky here," Philip pleaded, "must Fannie go?"
"Sure she must go," Birdie answered. "Otherwise, if she don't go I won't
go."
Philip pondered for a moment.
"Well----" he commenced.
"And why wouldn't it be a good scheme," Birdie went on, "if you was to
ring in this other young feller?"
"What young feller?" Philip innocently asked her.
"What young feller!" Birdie exclaimed. "Why, ain't you just told me----"
"Oh, that's right!" Philip cried. "That's a good idee. I'll see if I can
fix it."
He stopped short and looked at his watch. "I'll meet you both in front
of the Casino at eight o'clock," he declared.
It was five o'clock and he only had a trifle over three hours to
discover a man--young if possible, but, in any event, prosperous, who
would be willing to conduct to the theatre a lady of uncertain age with
a dark moustache--object: matrimony.
"You must excuse me," he said fervently as he shook Birdie's hand in
farewell. "I got a lot of work to do this afternoon."