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She held a little impromptu reception that extended down as far as the lingeries and up as far as the rugs. The old sparkle came back to Effie's eye. The old assurance and vigor seemed to return. By the time that Miss Weinstein, of the French lingeries, arrived, breathless, to greet her Effie was herself again. "Well, if you're not a sight for sore eyes, dearie," exclaimed Miss Weinstein.
"Alice Green's mother," interrupted Malka, pricking up her ears, "married a son of Mendel Weinstein by his third wife, Dinah, who had ten pounds left her by her uncle Shloumi." "No, Dinah was Mendel's second wife," corrected Mrs. Jacobs, cutting short a remark of Mrs. Phillips's in favor of the new interest. "Dinah was Mendel's third wife," repeated Malka, her tanned cheeks reddening.
"And be thankful you haven't got a man to raise the dickens when the bill comes in." "Do you mean that?" asked Effie slowly, fixing Miss Weinstein with a thoughtful eye. "Surest thing you know. Say, girlie, let's go over to Klein's for lunch this noon. They have pot roast with potato pfannkuchen on Tuesdays, and we can split an order between us."
"Oh, run along!" scoffed Miss Weinstein. "A person would think you had a husband to get a grouch every time you get reckless to the extent of a new waist. You're your own boss. And you know your credit's good. Honestly, it would be a shame to let this chance slip. You're not getting tight in your old age, are you?" "N-no," faltered Effie, "but " "Then come on," urged Miss Weinstein energetically.
"My goodness, how grand and thin you are! I'd be willing to take a course in typhoid myself, if I thought I could lose twenty-five pounds." "I haven't a rag that fits me," Effie announced proudly. Miss Weinstein lowered her voice discreetly. "Dearie, can you come down to my department for a minute?
Fischlowitz breathed deep and grasped the nickel-plated door handle. Mrs. Meyerburg leaned out, her small plumes wagging. "Burk, since Miss Becky ain't along to-day, I don't want in front no second man." "Yes, madam." "I want instead you should take the roadster and call after Mrs. Weinstein. You know, down by Twenty-third Street, the fourth floor back." "Yes, madam."
"If old man Weinstein thinks he can put that over, he's got another guess coming!" "And then I give her the juice and we lost that super-six in the dust!" "Yes, Huggins has got some infield!" Fifteen or twenty years ago the trail of Bohemia would have inevitably led to Maria's in West Twelfth Street.
On the morning following these excursions into Lobsterdom, Effie would confide to her friend, Miss Weinstein, of the lingeries and negligees: "I was out with my friend, Mr. Marks, last evening. We went to Rector's after the show. Oh, well, it takes a New Yorker to know how. Honestly, I feel like a queen when I go out with him. H'm? Oh, nothing like that, girlie.
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