THE MAGIC BARREL
593
"A sliced tomato you have maybe?" Salzman hesitantly inquired.
"No."
The marriage broker shut his eyes and ate. When he had fin–
ished he carefully cleaned up the crumbs and rolled up the remains
of the fish in the paper bag. His spectacled eyes roamed the room
until he discovered, amid some piles of books, a one-burner gas
stove. Lifting his hat he humbly asked, "A glass tea you got, rabbi?"
Conscience-stricken, Leo rose and brewed the tea. He served it
with a chunk of lemon and two cubes of lump sugar, delighting
Salzman.
Mter he had drunk his tea, Salzman's strength and good spirits
were restored.
"So tell me, rabbi," he said amiably, "you considered any more
the three clients I mentioned yesterday?"
"There was no need to consider."
"Why not?"
"None of them suits me."
"What, then, suits you?"
Leo let it pass because he could give only a confused answer.
Without waiting for a reply, Salzman asked, "You remember
this girl
I
talked to you-the high-school teacher?"
"Age thirty-two?"
But, surprisingly, Salzman's face lit in a smile. "Age twenty–
nine."
Leo shot him a look. "Reduced from thirty-two?"
"A mistake," Salzman avowed. "I talked today with the den–
tist. He took me to his safety deposit box and showed me the birth
certificate. She was twenty-nine years last August. They made her
a party in the mountains where she went for her vacation. When her
father spoke to me the first time I forgot to write the age and I
told you thirty-two, but now I remember this was a different client,
a widow."
"The same one you told me about? I thought she was twenty–
four?"
"A different.
Am
I responsible that the world is filled with
widows?"
"No, but I'm not interested in them, nor for that matter, in
schoolteachers."
