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Updated: June 23, 2025
'You would profane my divine work by gabbling through it with your pack of parrots! 'Here, just you come off your perch! said Kloot. 'You've written the piece; we do the rest. Kloot, though only nineteen and at a few dollars a week, had a fine, careless equality not only with the whole world, but even with his employer. He was now, to his amaze, confronted by a superior.
Yet in the end the poet escaped scot-free. Goldwater was a coward, Kloot a sage. The same prudence that had led Kloot to exclude authors, saved him from magnifying their importance by police squabbles. Besides, a clever lawyer might prove the exclusion illegal. What was done was done.
He hied to the nearest drug-store, and entering the telephone cabinet rang up Goldwater. 'Hello, there! came the voice of Kloot. 'Who are you? Pinchas had a vivid vision of the big-nosed youth, in his peaked cap, sitting on the table by the telephone, swinging his legs; but he replied craftily, in a disguised voice: 'You, Goldwater? 'No; Goldwater's on the stage. Pinchas groaned.
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