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Miss Whimple was rather disappointed over William's attitude toward the girl, and so expressed herself to Epstein one day. The old comedian displayed unwonted heat in his answer. "Such foolishness," he said sharply, "give the lad a chance. There is a great career before William. If he begins thinking of love, or thinks he is thinking seriously of love now, it will be the end for him.
The puzzled countenance of Mrs. Renway cleared. "Oh, I see," she said brightly, "you're joking." Laurie smiled and turned to greet a late guest who had come up behind him. In the little group that had overheard him, three pairs of eyes met in startled glances. "Humph!" said Warren. "Hear that?" "Nice prospect for us!" muttered Rodney Bangs. Jacob Epstein looked harassed.
Tired, happy, and full, William and "the bunch" departed at last, Miss Whimple and Epstein going with them to the electric car a quarter of a mile away from the house the old comedian, despite the protests of Miss Whimple and William, carrying Dolly all the way.
By the time he is ready to go on the stage he will have a stock-in-trade of slang that will be the making of him, for he is so apt and ready with it. But, tell no, I'll tell Epstein myself to take care that his slang does not mar the rest of his speech. He must not be allowed to get into the way of just mouthing slang and nothing else. Does he read well?"
He ushered them to the door. "And it's all right, boy?" Epstein asked wistfully. "You know how vell ve meant. You ain't got no hard feelings about this?" "Not one." Laurie wrung his hand. Then, with an arm across Rodney's shoulders, he gave him a bearish hug. "I'll see you a little later," he promised. Rodney suddenly looked self-conscious.
Sometimes they do, and in the most unexpected cases. I had a man named Isadore Epstein in my section who was instrumental in getting Blighty for himself and one other. Issy was a tailor by trade. He was no fighting man and didn't pretend to be, and he didn't care who knew it. He was wild to get a "blighty one" or shell shock, or anything that would take him home.
He was joyfully greeted by William and "the bunch," and Miss Whimple felt something like a pang of jealousy when Dolly wriggled from her knee and went to Epstein. It was only for a moment though, the child was palpably so delighted to be with the old comedian, whose smile of greeting to her was wonderfully expressive.
He added the hope that the young lady would think so too, and the opinion that she was extremely fortunate in having among her friends so thoughtful a man as Epstein. It is doubtful if Epstein heard him, although it was quiet enough in the back part of the store where the three had conducted their examination.
If this association is to continue, there must be no more practical jokes, no more supervision, no more interference with me or my affairs. Is that agreed?" "You bet it is!" corroborated Epstein. Again he wiped his brow. "I can't stand the pace you fellas set," he admitted. Bangs nodded. "That's agreed. You're too good a boomerang for little Rodney."
Having found the place spoken of in the letter to Sally, where he could take night lessons in history, reading, and writing, William became an attentive and consistent attendant. Tommy Watson and Whimple were fearful lest he should undertake too much, finally tire of everything, and lapse into a drifter. Epstein ridiculed their fears and scorned their arguments.
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