"Ain't they terrible shabby-looking!" she murmured, and Ringentaub shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
"You would look shabby, too, lady," he said, "if you would be two hundred and fifty years old; _aber_ if you want to see what they look like after they are restored, y'understand, I got back there one of the rest of the set which I already sold to Mr. Paul; and I am fixing it up for him."
As he finished speaking he walked to the rear and dragged forward a reseated and polished duplicate of the two chairs.
"I dassent restore 'em before I sell 'em," Ringentaub explained; "otherwise no one believes they are gen-wine."
"And how much do you say you want for them chairs, Ringentaub?" Max asked.
"I didn't say I wanted nothing," Ringentaub replied. "The fact is, I don't know whether I want to keep them chairs _oder_ not. You see, Mr. Merech, Jacobean chairs is pretty near so rare nowadays that it would pay me to wait a while. In a couple of years them chairs double in value already."
"Sure, I know," Max said. "You could say the same thing about your whole stock, Ringentaub; and so, if I would be you, Ringentaub, I would take a little vacation of a couple years or so. Go round the world _mit_ Mrs. Ringentaub, understand me, and by the time you come back you are worth twicet as much as you got to-day; but just to help pay your rent while you are away, Mr. Ringentaub, I'll make you an offer of thirty-five dollars for the chairs."
Ringentaub seized a chair in each hand and dragged them noisily to one side.
"As I was saying," he announced, "I ain't got no Florentine frames, Mr. Merech; so I am sorry we couldn't do no business."
"Well, then, thirty-seven-fifty, Mr. Ringentaub," Max continued; and Ringentaub made a flapping gesture with both hands.
"Say, lookyhere," he growled, "what is the use talking nonsense, Mr. Merech? For ten dollars apiece you could get on Twenty-third Street a couple chairs, understand me, made in some big factory, y'understand--A-Number-One pieces of furniture--which would suit you a whole lot better as gen-wine pieces. These here chairs is for conoozers, Mr. Merech; so, if you want any shiny candlesticks _oder_ Moskva samovars from brass-spinners on Center Street, y'understand, a couple doors uptown you would find plenty fakers. _Aber_ here is all gen-wine stuff, y'understand; and for gen-wine stuff you got to pay full price, understand me, which if them chairs stays in my store till they are five hundred years old already I wouldn't take a cent less for 'em as fifty dollars."