"He said 'Yes'," he informed Ersten.

"Well, maybe," Ersten was decent enough to admit.

There was an uncomfortable pause in which the two men evinced a
slight disposition to glare at each other.

"Mr. Schnitt's eyes are bad," suggested Johnny hopefully.

"My eyes are like a young man's!" asserted Schnitt, his pride coming
uppermost.

"He needs a month to rest them," insisted the buffer, becoming a
trifle panic-stricken; and he tapped the sole of Ersten's shoe with
his foot.

"Must it take a month, Heinrich?" implored Ersten, taking the cue.

"Well, how soon you move?" inquired Schnitt.

"I don't promise I move!" flared Ersten.

"I never come back--"

"Till his eyes are better," hastily interrupted Johnny. "Look here,
you fellows! You're balling up this rehearsal! Now let's get
together. Schnitt, you'll come back to work in this place, won't
you?"

"Well, I say it anyhow," admitted Schnitt reluctantly.