THE TWO MICKEYS
LITTLE "Mickey" leaning over the edge of the theater gallery, said disgustedly: "Aw, dink it!" The hero, on the stage below—having just returned from a long sea voyage that had left no marks on either his complexion or his new sailor suit—had gathered in the heroine with both arms and cried "My-y-y wi-i-ife!" in a voice that ran an arpeggio of emotion. She had lifted a fond smile to him and replied shrilly " My-y-y husband!" Then he pressed her cheek against a clean shave; and Mickey said again: "A-aw dink it!"
His father leaned forward in the seat beside him, to ask: "Uh? What 'd yuh say?"
"Dhey ain't doin' not'in," Mickey whined. "Dhey 's all jus' talkin' to dheyselves."
The elder "Mickey"—who was still "Mickey" to his friends, although he should, long since, have been "Mike"—sat back to allow himself an abdominal chuckle. His son's posture was not one that he could take without having his laughter choked in his waist. He was as plump as a bartender. In fact, he had been a bartender until he married—rather late in life—a hard-working widow, proprietor of a delicatessen shop; and now he sliced bologna sausage and
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