All the rest grated on my nerves
I beguiled the time by observing the women. I noticed, for
instance, that Auntie Yetta, whose fingers were a veritable
jewelry-store, now and again made a pretense of smoothing her
grayish hair for the purpose of exhibiting her flaming rings.
Another elderly woman, whose fingers were as heavily laden, kept
them prominently interlaced across her breast. From time to time
she would flirt her interlocked hands, in feigned
absent-mindedness, thus flashing her diamonds upon the people
around her. At one moment it became something like a race
between her and Auntie Yetta. Nodelman's cousin caught me
watching it, whereupon she winked to me merrily and interlaced
her own begemmed fingers, as much as to say, "What do you
think of our contest?" and burst into a voiceless laugh
I tried to listen to the music again. To add to my ordeal, I had to
lend an ear to the boastful chatter of the mothers or fathers on the
virtuosity of Bennie, Sidney, Beckie, or Sadie. The mother of the
curly-headed pianist, the illiterate wife of a baker, first wore out
my patience and then enlisted my interest by a torrent of musical
terminology which she apparently had picked up from talks with
her boy's piano-teacher.
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