a more durable Fil d'Ecosse anywhere. My . . . my brother-in-law imports it direct from England.
Nervous Gentleman—I'll take some. Then I want some with colored clocks.
Oscar—How many of these, sir?
Nervous Gentleman—Well, if they are really so good, give me a dozen pair.
Oscar—Yes, sir. Twelve. [Counts them briskly.]
Thorough Young Lady—Do you mind letting me look at those first ones again? [The Dissatisfied Lady and Juhasz re-enter.]
Dissatisfied Lady—[Speaking as she enters.] . . . and my husband is very fond of bow ties, those gay ones they are wearing now. [Comes down left.]
Juhasz—[Without noticing Oscar, he comesdown to the table at left.] The bow ties are here, madame. Considered very smart just now. Restricted pattern, too. We only make up two or three of each. A man doesn't like to see the tie he is wearing . . . [Now he sees Oscar, who has just climbed up on a stool to reach some boxes on the top shelves. They look into each other's eyes across the shop. Juhasz's mouth remains open, the word sticks in his throat, his hand, holding a necktie, remains poised in the air.]
Oscar—[Quickly.] The gentleman couldn't wait. He was about to walk out. I didn't want to see a customer walk out of the shop, so I just showed
