THOROUGH YOUNG LADY—Do you mind letting me look at those first ones
again? [_The DISSATISFIED LADY and JUHASZ re-enter._]
DISSATISFIED LADY—[_Speaking as she enters._] ... and my husband is very
fond of bow ties, those gay ones they are wearing now. [_Comes down
left._]
JUHASZ—[_Without noticing OSCAR, he comes down to the table at left._]
The bow ties are here, madame. Considered very smart just now. Restricted
pattern, too. We only make up two or three of each. A man doesn’t like to
see the tie he is wearing ... [_Now he sees OSCAR, who has just climbed
up on a stool to reach some boxes on the top shelves. They look into
each other’s eyes across the shop. JUHASZ’S mouth remains open, the word
sticks in his throat, his hand, holding a necktie, remains poised in the
air._]
OSCAR—[_Quickly._] The gentleman couldn’t wait. He was about to walk out.
I didn’t want to see a customer walk out of the shop, so I just showed
him one or two things in a hurry.... I’d like to know about what size.
Will you show me your hand, please? [_The NERVOUS GENTLEMAN extends his
hand. OSCAR, looks at JUHASZ again, greatly flustered, takes the NERVOUS
GENTLEMAN’S hand, shakes it cordially._] How do you do? [_He stares at
JUHASZ anxiously._]
NERVOUS GENTLEMAN—What do you say?
OSCAR—Oh, pardon me! ... Will you close your hand, sir? [_The NERVOUS
GENTLEMAN extends his fist. OSCAR measures a sock over it._] These are
just right.
THOROUGH YOUNG LADY—[_To PHILIP._] Let me see? Will they wear?
JUHASZ—[_To the DISSATISFIED LADY._] A man doesn’t like to see the same
tie he is wearing on somebody else. [_He is still staring at OSCAR._]
OSCAR—[_Rapidly._] Three pair.... Yes, sir. And a dozen of these ... and
now—— [_Scans the shelves._] Long black Fil d’Ecosse with clocks. [_Takes
down a box and throws it on the counter._] These are really excellent.
[_Opens the box in feverish haste, shows the socks._] We are the only
ones in the city who carry them.... You can do almost anything to this
stocking without harming it ... boil it, bake it, soak it in lye, in
alcohol, in vitriol.... May I see your hand again?
DISSATISFIED LADY—[_Who has been rummaging in the box, now has several
neckties in her hand._] These aren’t bad.
NERVOUS GENTLEMAN—[_Extends his fist._] It’s socks I want, you know, not
gloves.
OSCAR—Ha, ha, ha! That’s good! [_Measures._] These are exactly right.
NERVOUS GENTLEMAN—Sure they won’t be too small?