_fertig_."

The transformation begun in Cesar Kovalenko by a haircut and a shave was
made complete when Morris, accompanied by Kovalenko's cousin, went with
him to a retail clothing establishment. There Cesar discarded forever
his cap, top boots and frogged overcoat and emerged--but for his
vocabulary--a naturalized citizen of the cloak-and-suit trade.

"Now all he's got to do," Morris said, "is to work hard and he would
quick be making good wages."

"Sure, sure!" the cousin replied. "At first, maybe he would be a little
_dumm_ on account he is got a whole lot of experiences lately."

"Experiences?" Morris asked. "What for experiences?"

"Well, in the first place," the cousin proceeded, "two years ago he is
studying for a doctor in the University of Harkav, and next door to him
one house by the other lives a feller which I ain't got nothing to say
against him, y'understand, only he goes to work and sends a package to
the chief of police, Mr. Perlmutter, which when they open the package,
y'understand, inside is something g'fixed. Mind you, Mr. Perlmutter, I
wouldn't say nothing if it would be really the chief of police which
would open the package, but always it is some poor _Schnorrer_ which the
chief of police calls in from the street. This time it was a feller by
the name Levin, a decent, respectable, young feller--his father was a
_Rav_. The old man is coming over here this week, I understand, Mr.
Perlmutter--but when the chief of police sends out Levin in the backyard
he should open the package, understand me, that's the last any one sees
either from the package or either from Levin."