I got--Jesus Christ!"
"Yes, exactly," said Mary Magna.
The great man of the pictures stood rooted to the spot. "Vot's dis?
Some joke you people playin' on me?" He shot a suspicious glance
from one to another of us.
"No," said Mary, "he's real. Honest to God!"
"Oh! You bring him for an engagement. Vell, I don't do no business
outside my office. Send him to see Lipsky in de mornin'."
"He hasn't asked for an engagement," said Mary.
"Oh, he ain't. Vell, vot's he hangin' about for? Been gittin' a
permanent vave? Ha, ha, ha!"
"Cut it out, Abey," said Mary Magna. "This is a gentleman, and you
must be decent. Mr. Carpenter, meet Mr. T-S."
"Carpenter, eh? Vell, Mr. Carpenter, if I vas to make a picture vit
you I gotta spend a million dollars on it--you know you can't make
no cheap skate picture fer a ting like dat, if you do you got a
piece o' cheese. It'd gotta be a costume picture, and you got shoost
as much show to market vun o' dem today as you got vit a pauper's
funeral. I spend all dat money, and no show to git it back, and den
you actors tink I'm makin' ten million a veek off you--"
"Cut it out, Abey!" broke in Mary.
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