vun dollar."

Spike. "Come off, Aaron, come off! Fifty cents is th' bid!"

Salesman. "Fifty cents? Vy, on Broadvay dey'd sharge you--"

Spike. "Wake up, Ike! This ain't Broadway! And fifty's the
limit!"

Salesman. "But shust look at dem pink shtripes--so vide as an
inch! Dere's fifty cents' vorth of dye in dem shtripes, an' I'll give it
you for seventy-five cents! On Broadvay--"

Spike. "We're gettin' there, Ikey, we're gettin' there; keep
on, fifty's the call!"

Salesman. "Fifty cents! Oi! Oi! I vould be ruined! A neglegee
boosom and turnover cuffs! Vell, vell--I'll wrap it up, so--an' I make
you a present of it for--sixty! An' on Broadvay--"

Spike. "Come on, Geoff, Aaron's talking in his sleep! Come on,
we'll go on to Mendelbaum's; see--we want shirts, an' ties, an' socks,
an' collars, an'--"

Salesman. "Vait--vait! Mendelbaum's a grafter--vait! I got th'
best selection of socks an' ties on Ninth Av'noo, an' here's a neglegee
shirt with turnover cuffs--an' only fifty cents. But at Mendelbaum's or
on Broadvay--"

In this way Mr. Ravenslee became possessed of sundry shirts whose bosoms