role of dark and sinister dining-room to wareroom for a dozen or more
perambulators on high, rubber-tired wheels, Alphonse Michelson and
Gertie Dobriner stood in conference with a dark-wrappered figure, her
blue-checked apron wound muff fashion about her hands.

Miss Dobriner tapped a finger against her too red lips. "Seventy dollars
net for a baby-carriage!"

"Yes'm, and a bargain at that. If he was home he'd show you the books
hisself and the prices we get."

"Seventy dollars for a baby-carriage! For that, Phonzie, you can buy the
kid a taxi."

In a sotto voice and with a flow of red suffusing his face, Alphonse
Michelson turned to Gertie Dobriner, his hand curved blinker fashion to
inclose his words.

"For Gawd's sake, cut the haggling, Gert. If this here white enamel is
the carriage we want, let's take it and hike. I got to get home."

Miss Dobriner drew up her back to a feline arch. "The gentleman says
we'll take it for sixty-five, spot cash."

"My husband's great for one price, madam. We don't cater to none but
private trade and--"

"Sure you don't. If we could have got one of these glass-top carriages
in a department store, we wouldn't be swimming over here to Brooklyn
just to try out our stroke."