CHARLOTTE. Don’t talk so loud--you’ll wake the people next door. JERRY [_incredulously_]. The people next door! CHARLOTTE. You heard me! _Jerry is beaten, and taking it very badly. He is beginning to brood when the telephone rings. He answers it._ JERRY. Hello!... [_With recognition and rising interest._] Oh, hell_o_.... Did you get the stuff.... Just one gallon is all I want.... No, I can’t use more than one gallon.... [_He looks around thoughtfully._] Yes, I suppose so, but I’d rather have you mix it before you bring it.... Well, about nine o’clock, then. [_He rings off, gleeful now, smiling. Then sudden worry, and the hairless eyebrows knit together. He takes a note-book out of his pocket, lays it open before him, and picks up the receiver._] Midway 9191.... Yes.... Hello, is this Mr.--Mr. S-n-o-o-k-s’s residence?... Hello, is this Mr. S-n-o-o-k-s’s residence?... [_Very distinctly._] Mr. Snukes or Snooks.... Mr. S-n-, the boo--the fella that gets _stuff_, hooch ... h-o-o-c-h.... No, Snukes or Snooks is the man I want.... Oh. Why, a fella down-town gave me your husband’s name and he called me up--at least, I called him up first, and then he called me up just now--see?... You see? Hello--is this--am I talking to the wife of the--of the--of the fella that gets _stuff_ for you? The b-o-o-t-l-e-g-g-e-r? Oh, you know, the bootlegger. [_He breathes hard after this word. Do you suppose Central will tell on him?_] ... Oh. Well, you see, I wanted to tell him when he comes to-night to come to the back door.... No, Hooch is not my name. My name is Frost. 2127 Osceola Avenue.... Oh, he’s left already? Oh, all right. Thanks.... Well, good-by.... Well, good-by ... good-by. [_He rings off. Again his hairless brows are knit with worry._] Char-lit! CHARLOTTE [_abstractedly_]. Yes? JERRY. Charlit, if you want to read a good story, read the one about the fella who gets shipwrecked on the Buzzard Islands and meets the Chinese girl, only she isn’t a Chinese girl at all. CHARLOTTE [_she’s still up-stairs, remember_]. What? JERRY. There’s one story in there--are you reading the Saturday Evening Post? CHARLOTTE. I would be if you didn’t interrupt me every minute. JERRY. I’m not. I just wanted to tell you there’s one story in there about a Chinese girl who gets wrecked on the Buzzard Islands that isn’t a Chinese---- CHARLOTTE. Oh, let up, for heaven’s sakes! Don’t nag me. _Clin-n-ng! That’s the door-bell._ There’s the door-bell. JERRY [_with fine sarcasm]_. Oh, really? Why, I thought it was a cow-bell. CHARLOTTE [_witheringly_]. Ha-ha! _Well, he’s gone to the door. He opens it, mumbles something, closes it. Now he’s back._ JERRY. It wasn’t anybody. CHARLOTTE. It must have been. JERRY. What? CHARLOTTE. It couldn’t have rung itself. JENNY [_in disgust_]. Oh, gosh, you think that’s funny. [_After a pause._] It was a man who wanted 2145. I told him this was 2127, so he went away.