boss is going on.'

From the opposite wing Hamlet was indeed advancing. Pinchas made a
wild plunge forward, but Kloot's grasp on his collar was still
carefully firm.

'Who's mutilating the poesy now?' Kloot frowned angrily from under his
peaked cap. 'You'll spoil the scene.'

'Peace, liar! You promised me your wife for Ophelia!'

Kloot's frown relaxed into a smile. 'Sure! The first wife I get you
shall have.'

Pinchas gnashed his teeth. Goldwater's voice rose in a joyous
roulade.

'I think you owe me a car-fare,' said Kloot soothingly.

Pinchas waved the rejoinder aside with his cane. 'Why does _Hamlet_
sing?' he demanded fiercely.

'Because it's Passover,' said Kloot. 'You are a "greener" in New York,
otherwise you would know that it is a tradition to have musical plays
on Passover. Our audiences wouldn't stand for any other. You're such
an unreasonable cuss! Why else did we take your "Hamlet" for a
Passover play?'

'But "Hamlet" isn't a musical play.'

'Yes, it is! How about Ophelia's songs? That was what decided us. Of
course they needed eking out.'

'But "Hamlet" is a tragedy!' gasped Pinchas.

'Sure!' said Kloot cheerfully. 'They all die at the end. Our audiences
would go away miserable if they didn't. You wait till they're dead,
then you shall take your call.'

'Take my call, for _your_ play!'

'There's quite a lot of your lines left, if you listen carefully. Only
you don't understand stage technique. Oh, I'm not grumbling; we're
quite satisfied. The idea of adapting "Hamlet" for the Yiddish stage
is yours, and it's worth every cent we paid.'

A storm of applause gave point to the speaker's words, and removed the
last partition between the poet's great mind and momentary madness.
What! here was that ape of a Goldwater positively wallowing in
admiration, while he, the mighty poet, had been cast into outer
darkness and his work mocked and crucified! He put forth all his
might, like Samson amid the Philistines, and leaving his coat-collar
in Kloot's hand, he plunged into the circle of light. Goldwater's
amazed face turned to meet him.

'Cutter of lines!' The poet's cane slashed across Hamlet's right cheek
near the right eye. 'Perverter of poesy!' It slashed across the left
cheek near the left eye.

The Prince of Palestine received each swish with a yell of pain and
fear, and the ever-ready Kloot dropped the curtain on the tragic
scene.

Such hubbub and hullabaloo as rose on both sides of the