“Hurry up,” said Mrs. Mandel to her husband, “we’re already late.”
“I’ll be ready in a second,” said Mr. Mandel. “Jackie isn’t ready anyway.”
“He’s waiting for us outside,” she answered, which meant (as she knew) that he had got into a ball game in the street and would probably have to wash all over again. He was twelve.
It wasn’t usual for Mr. Mandel to be late this way, but he was not too anxious to visit the Josephs’ who had just moved uptown into a large apartment house, with an elevator, only two blocks away from the Drive. This fact, this location, constituted a challenge to Mr. Mandel’s earning power, a challenge which his wife did not fail to hurl at him on appropriate occasions.
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