§ 335 Fun for Little Isadore
Mr. Pincus, the delicatessen dealer, was visiting Mr. Rabinowitz, the retailer in second-hand garments at the latter’s flat in Allen Street. To the host came his little son, Isadore, aged six.
“Popper,” he asked, “vould you gif me a quarter?”
“Shure,” said the parent. He hauled a coin from his pocket, dropped it with a generous gesture into the outstretched hand of his offspring and, as the child trotted away, made as if to resume his interrupted conversation with the caller. But Mr. Pincus, who had been observing the byplay with distended eyes was the first to speak:
“Rabinowitz, have you gone crazy or something? Your boy asks you for a whole quarter und right avay you give it to him. What an extravagance!”
“That’s right,” said Mr. Rabinowitz, with a proud smile. “Every night comes my little Isadore und asks me for a quarter, und alvays I gif it to him.”
“But ain’t it teachin’ him bad habits, having all that money to spend on himself?” insisted Mr. Pincus.
“Pincus,” said his friend, “I tell you a secret: he ain’t spendin’ it on himself; alvays he goes und puts it in his savings bank, only, it ain’t a savings bank—that’s what he thinks it is. It’s the gas meter.”