'You will talk to him, Kloot,' he pleaded at last. 'You will save Ophelia?' The big-nosed youth looked up from his impertinent inquisition. 'Rely on me, if I have to play her myself.' 'But that will be still worse,' said Pinchas seriously. Kloot grinned. 'How do you know? You've never seen me act?' The poet laid his finger beseechingly on his nose. 'You will not spoil my play, you will get me a maidenly Ophelia? I and you are the only two men in New York who understand how to cast a play.' 'You leave it to me,' said Kloot; 'I have a wife of my own.' 'What!' shrieked Pinchas. 'Don't be alarmed--I'll coach her. She's just the age for the part. Mrs. Goldwater might be her mother.' 'But can she make the audience cry?' 'You bet; a regular onion of an Ophelia.' 'But I must see her rehearse, then I can decide.' 'Of course.' 'And you will seek me in the cafe when rehearsals begin?' 'That goes without saying.' The poet looked cunning. 'But don't you say without going.' 'How can we rehearse without you? You shouldn't have worried the boss. We'll call you, even if it's the middle of the night.' The poet jumped at Kloot's hand and kissed it. 'Protector of poets!' he cried ecstatically. 'And you will see that they do not mutilate my play; you will not suffer a single hair of my poesy to be harmed?' 'Not a hair shall be cut,' said Kloot solemnly. Pinchas kissed his hand again. 'Ah, I and you are the only two men in New York who understand how to treat poesy.' 'Sure!' Kloot snatched his hand away. 'Good-bye.' Pinchas lingered, gathering up his papers. 'And you will see it is not adulterated with American. In Zion they do not say "Sure" or "Lend me a nickel."' 'I guess not,' said Kloot. 'Good-bye.' 'All the same, you might lend me a nickel for car-fare.' Kloot thought his departure cheap at five cents. He handed it over. The poet went. An instant afterwards the door reopened and his head reappeared, the nose adorned with a pleading forefinger. 'You promise me all this?' 'Haven't I promised?' 'But swear to me.' 'Will you go--if I swear?' 'Yup,' said Pinchas, airing his American. 'And you won't come back till rehearsals begin?' 'Nup.' 'Then I swear--on my father's and mother's life!' Pinchas departed gleefully, not knowing that Kloot was an orphan. III