one he is holding.] Just the same as this, isn't it?
Oscar—Just the same. Genuine Fil d'Ecosse.
Nervous Gentleman—Is it really good?
Oscar—Absolutely. [He is at the end of the counter now.]
Nervous Gentleman—It looks good.
Oscar—You wouldn't want a better sock, sir.
Philip—[Who has been watching them; angrily.] Coming right away, sir. One second more!
Nervous Gentleman—[Looks at him, then at Oscar.] You . . . work here?
Oscar—Well . . . not exactly, sir. . . . I . . . I . . . I'm a relation of Mr. Juhasz's.
Nervous Gentleman—Because I can't wait any longer.
Oscar—[Goes swiftly behind the counter.] Then just let me wait on you, sir . . . until Mr. Juhasz comes. This is a fine quality, sir, absolutely first class.
Nervous Gentleman—Will these tear easily?
Oscar—[Laughs.] These? These are the strongest Fil d'Ecosse made. [Pulls at the hose.] They're like steel.
Nervous Gentleman—They look good.
Oscar—And they will feel good on the foot.
Nervous Gentleman—I want a good quality.
Oscar—[Spluttering in his eagerness.] We sell nothing but first-class goods, sir. You won't find
