CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MOVING PICTURE WRITES
When Max Schindelberger opened the door leading into the office ofLesengeld & Belz his manner was that of the local millionaire's wifebearing delicacies to a bedridden laundress, for Max felt that he wasslumming.
"Is Mr. Lesengeld disengaged?" he asked in the rotund voice of oneaccustomed to being addressed as Brother President three nights out ofevery week, and he cast so benevolent a smile on the stenographer thatshe bridled immediately.
"Mis-ter Lesengeld," she called, and in response B. Lesengeld projectedhis torso from an adjacent doorway.
"Miss Schimpf," he said pleadingly, "do me the favour and don't makesuch a _Geschrei_ every time somebody comes in the office. Goes throughme like a knife yet."
Max Schindelberger's smile took on the quality of indulgency as headvanced slowly toward B. Lesengeld.
"How do you do, Mr. Lesengeld?" he said, proffering his hand; and afterglancing suspiciously at the extended palm Lesengeld took it in a limpclasp.
"I already suscribed to that--now--asylum, ain't it?" Lesengeld began,for his experienced eye had at once noted the fraternal society charm,the I.O.M.A. lapel button, and the white tie that proclaimed Max tobe a philanthropist.
Max laughed as heartily as he could.
"Ain't it funny," he said, "how just so soon as anybody sees me theythink I am going to do something charitable? As a matter of fact, Mr.Lesengeld, I am coming here to see you on a business matter whichreally it ain't my business at all."
Lesengeld grudgingly held open the door, and Max squeezed past him.
"You got a comfortable place here, Mr. Lesengeld," he began, "plain andold-fashioned, but comfortable."
Lesengeld removed some dusty papers from a chair.
"It suits me," he said. "Take a seat, Mr. ----"
"Schindelberger," Max said as he sat down.
"Used to was Schindelberger, Steinfeld & Company in the underwearbusiness?"
Max nodded and his smile began to fade.
"My partner Belz got a couple of the composition notes in the middlecompartment in our safe for six years already," Lesengeld continued."He keeps 'em for sowveneers, on account the feller he took 'em offof--a relation from his wife's--was no good, neither. Which you wastelling me you wanted to see me about a business matter."
Max Schindelberger cleared his throat.
"Anybody could have reverses in business," he said.
"Sure, I know," Lesengeld commented. "Only there is two kinds ofreverses, Mr. Schindelberger, reverses from up to down and reversesfrom down to up, like when a feller couldn't pay his composition notes,Mr. Schindelberger, and two years later is buying elevator apartmentsyet in his wife's name, Mr. Schindelberger." He tapped the deskimpatiently. "Which you was saying," he added, "that you wanted to seeme about a business matter."
Max coughed away a slight huskiness. When he had started from hisluxuriously appointed office on lower Nassau Street to visit Mr.Lesengeld on East Broadway, he had felt a trifle sorry for Lesengeld,so soon to feel the embarrassment and awkwardness incidental to meetingfor the first time, and all combined under one frockcoat, the DistrictGrand Master of the I.O.M.A., the President of the Bella Hirshkind Homefor Indigent Females, and director and trustee of three orphan asylumsand of an eye, ear, and throat infirmary. With the first reference tothe defunct underwear business, however, Max began to lose the sense ofconfidence that the dignity of his various offices lent him; and by thetime Lesengeld had mentioned the elevator apartment houses he hadassumed to Max all the majesty of, say, for example, the Federal GrandMaster of the I.O.M.A., with Jacob H. Schiff and Andrew Carnegie thrownin for good measure.
"The fact is," Max stammered, "I called to see you about thethree-thousand dollar mortgage you are holding on Rudnik's house--thesecond mortgage."
Lesengeld nodded.
"First mortgages I ain't got any," he said, "and if you are coming toinsinivate that I am a second-mortgage shark, Mr. Schindelberger, goahead and do so. I am dealing in second mortgages now twenty yearsalready, and I hear myself called a shark so often, Mr. Schindelberger,that it sounds like it would be a compliment already. I come prettynear getting it printed on my letterheads."
"I didn't said you was a second-mortgage shark, Mr. Lesengeld; a mancould be a whole lot worse as a second-mortgage shark, understand me,and do a charity once in awhile, anyhow. You know what it stands in_Gemara_ yet?"
Schindelberger settled himself in his chair preparatory to intoning aTalmudical quotation, but Lesengeld forestalled him.
"Sure, I know," he said, "it stands in _Gemara_ a whole lot aboutcharity, Mr. Schindelberger, but it don't say no more about secondmortgages as it does about composition notes, for instance. So if youare coming to me to ask me I should give Rudnik an extension on hisClinton Street house, you could learn _Gemara_ to me till I wouldbecome so big a _Melammed_ as you are, understand me, and it wouldn'tmake no difference. I never extend no mortgages for nobody."
"But, Mr. Lesengeld, you got to remember this is an exception,otherwise I wouldn't bother myself I should come up here at all. I aminteresting myself in this here matter on account Rudnik is an old man,understand me, and all he's got in the world is the Clinton Streethouse; and, furthermore, he will make a will leaving it to the BellaHirshkind Home for Indignant Females, which if you want to go ahead androb a lot of poor old widders of a few thousand dollars, go ahead, Mr.Lesengeld."
He started to rise from his chair, but he thought better of it asLesengeld began to speak.
"Don't make me no bluffs, Schindelberger," Lesengeld cried, "because,in the first place, if Rudnik wills his house to the Bella HirshkindHome, what is that my business? And, in the second place, Belz's wife'smother's a cousin got a sister which for years, Belz, makes a standingoffer of five hundred dollars some one should marry her, and finally hegets her into the Home as single as the day she was born already."
"One or two ain't widders," Schindelberger admitted, "but they're allold, and when you say what is it your business that Rudnik leaves hishouse to charity, sure it ain't. _Aber_ it's your business if you tryto take the house away from charity. Even if you would be dealing insecond mortgages, Mr. Lesengeld, that ain't no reason why you shouldn'tgot a heart once in a while."
"What d'ye mean, I ain't got a heart?" Lesengeld demanded. "I got justso much a heart as you got it, Mr. Schindelberger. Why, last night Iwent on a moving pictures, understand me, where a little girl gets herfather he should give her mother another show, _verstehst du_, and Iassure you I cried like a baby, such a soft heart I got it." He hadrisen from his chair and was pacing excitedly up and down the littleroom. "The dirty dawg wants to put her out of the house already onaccount she is kissing her brother which he is just come home fromtwenty years on the Pacific Coast," he continued; "and people calls mea shark yet, Mr. Schindelberger, which my wife and me is marriedtwenty-five years next _Succos Halamode_ and never so much as anunkind breath between us."
"That's all right, Mr. Lesengeld," Schindelberger said. "I don't doubtyour word for a minute, but when it comes to foreclosing a mortgage ona house which it, so to speak, belongs to a home for poor widders and acouple of old maids, understand me, then that's something else again."
"Who says I'm going to foreclose the mortgage?" Lesengeld demanded.
"You didn't said you was going to foreclose it," Schindelbergerreplied, "but you says you ain't never extended no mortgages fornobody."
"Which I never did," Lesengeld agreed; "but that ain't saying I ain'tnever going to. Seemingly, also, you seem to forget I got a partner,Mr. Schindelberger, which people calls him just so much a shark as me,Mr. Schindelberger."
"_Aber_ you are just telling me your partner is putting into the BellaHirshkind Home a relation from his wife's already, and if he wouldn'tbe willing to extend the mortgage, Mr. Lesengeld, who would? Because Ineedn't got to tell you, Mr. Lesengeld, the way business is so rottennowadays people don't give up so easy no more; and if it wouldn't b
ethat the Bella Hirshkind Home gets from somebody a whole lot ofassistance soon it would bust up sure, and Belz would quick findhimself stuck with his wife's relation again, and don't you forget it."
"But----" Lesengeld began.
"But nothing, Mr. Lesengeld!" Schindelberger cried. "Here's where theBella Hirshkind Home is got a show to make a big haul, so to speak,because this here Rudnik has got something the matter with his liverwhich it is only a question of time, understand me, on account thefeller is an old bachelor without anybody to look after him, and heeats all the time twenty-five-cent regular dinners. I give him at theoutside six months."
"But are you sure the feller makes a will leaving his house to theBella Hirshkind Home?" Lesengeld asked.
"What d'ye mean, am I sure?" Schindelberger exclaimed. "Of course Iain't sure. That's why I am coming up here this morning. If you wouldextend first the mortgage on that house, Mr. Lesengeld, Rudnik makesthe will, otherwise not; because it would cost anyhow fifteen dollarsfor a lawyer he should draw up the will, ain't it, and what's the usewe should spend the money if you take away from him the house?"
"But if I would extend first the mortgage, Schindelberger, might thefeller wouldn't make the will maybe."
Schindelberger clucked his tongue impatiently.
"Just because I am so charitable I don't got to be a fool exactly," hesaid. "If you would extend the mortgage, Mr. Lesengeld, I would bringRudnik up here with a lawyer, and before the extension agreement issigned Rudnik would sign his will and put it in your safe to keep."
Lesengeld hesitated for a minute.
"I'll tell you, Schindelberger," he said at length; "give me a littletime I should think this matter over. My partner is up in the Bronixand wouldn't be back till to-morrow."
"But all I want is your word, Mr. Lesengeld," Schindelberger protested,"because might if I would go back and tell Rudnik you wouldn't extendthe mortgage he would go right away to the river and jump in maybe."
"Yow, he would jump in!" Lesengeld cried. "Only the other day I seen ona moving pictures a fillum which they called it Life is Sweet, where anold man eighty years old jumps into the river on account his grandsondied in an elegant furnished apartment already; and when a young fellerrescues him he gives him for ten thousand dollars a check, which Iwouldn't believe it at all if I didn't seen the check with my own eyesyet. I was terrible broke up about the grandson, Mr. Schindelberger,_aber_ when I seen the check I didn't got no more sympathy for the oldman at all. Fifty dollars would of been plenty, especially when theyoung feller turns out to be the son of the old man's boy which heain't heard from in years."
"Sure, I know," Schindelberger agreed, "_aber_ such things only happenin moving pictures, Mr. Lesengeld, and if Rudnik would jump in theriver, understand me, the least that happens him is he would getdrownded and the Bella Hirshkind Home would go _Mechulla_ sure."
"Well, I'll tell you," Lesengeld said; "you could say to Rudnik that Isays I would extend the mortgage supposing my partner is agreeable, onconsideration he would leave the house to the Bella Hirshkind Home, andRudnik is to pay three hundred and fifty dollars to my lawyer fordrawing the extension agreement."
"_Aber_, Mr. Lesengeld----" Schindelberger began. He was about toprotest against the size of the bonus demanded under the guise ofcounsel fee when he was interrupted by a resounding, "_Koosh!_" fromLesengeld.
"That is my last word and the very best I could do," Lesengeldconcluded, "except I would get my lawyer to fix up the will and_schenk_ it to you free for nothing."
* * * * *
"I don't know what comes over you lately, Belz," Lesengeld complainedthe following morning. "Every day you come down looking like a bear_mit_ a spoiled tail."
"I got a right to look that way," Belz replied. "If you would got sucha wife's relation like I got it, Lesengeld, there'd be no sitting inthe same office with you at all. When it isn't one thing it's another.Yesterday my wife's mother's a sister's cousin gets a day off and comesround and gets dinner with us. I think I told you about her before--MissBlooma Duckman. Nothing suits that woman at all. The way she acts youwould think she lives in the bridal soot at the Waldorfer, and she getsmy wife so mad, understand me, that she throws away a whole dish of_Tzimmus_ in the garbage can already--which I got to admit that thewoman is right, Lesengeld--my wife don't make the finest _Tzimmus_ inthe world."
"Suppose she don't," Lesengeld commented. "Ain't it better she shouldspoil some _Tzimmus_ which all it's got into it is carrots, potatoes,and a little chuck? If it would be that she makes a failure _mit Gaenseoder_ chickens which it really costs money, understand me, then you gota right to kick."
"That's what I says," Belz replied, "_aber_ that Miss Duckman takeseverything so particular. She kicks about it all the way up in thesubway, which the next time I get one of my wife's relations in a Home,either it would be so far away she couldn't come to see us at all, orit would be so nearby that I don't got to lose a night's rest seeingher home. I didn't get to bed till pretty near two o'clock."
He stifled a yawn as he sat down at his desk.
"All the same, Lesengeld," he added, "they certainly got a nice placeup there for old women. There's lots of respectable business men paysten dollars a week for their wives in the Catskills already which theydon't got it so comfortable. Ain't it a shame, Lesengeld, that with acharity like that which is really a charity, people don't support itbetter as they do?"
"I bet yer!" Lesengeld cried. "The way some people acts not only theyain't got no hearts, y'understand, but they ain't got no sense,neither. I seen a case yesterday where an old _Rosher_ actually refusesto pay a month's rent for his son's widder _mit_ a little boy, to save'em being put out on the sidewalk. Afterward he goes broke, understandme, and when the boy grows up he's got the nerve to make a touch fromhim a couple of dollars and the boy goes to work and gives it to him.If I would be the boy the old man could starve to death; I wouldn'tgive him not one cent. They call us sharks, Belz, but compared withsuch a _Haman_ we ain't even sardines."
"Sure, I know," Belz said as he consulted the firm's diary; "and if youwouldn't waste your time going on so many moving pictures, Lesengeld,might you would attend to business maybe. Yesterday was ten days thatfeller Rudnik's mortgage is past due, and what did you done about it?Nothing, I suppose."
"Suppose again, Belz," Lesengeld retorted. "A feller was in here to seeme about it and I agreed we would give Rudnik an extension."
"What!" Belz cried. "You agreed you would give him an extension! Areyou crazy _oder_ what? The way money is so tight nowadays and realestate gone to hellandall, we as good as could get a deed of that housefrom that feller."
"Sure we could," Lesengeld replied calmly, "but we ain't going to. Oncein a while, Belz, even in the second-mortgage business, circumstancesalters cases, and this here is one of them cases; so before you arecalling me all kinds of suckers, understand me, you should be so goodand listen to what I got to tell you."
Belz shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
"Go as far as you like," he said, "_aber_ if it's something which youseen it on a moving pictures, Lesengeld, I don't want to hear it atall."
"It didn't happen on a moving pictures, Belz, but just the same if evenyou would seen it on a moving pictures you would say to yourself thatwith a couple of fellers like you and me, which a few hundred dollarsone way or the other wouldn't make or break us, understand me, we wouldbe all kinds of crooks and highwaymen if we would went to work and turna lot of old widders out into the street."
"Lesengeld," Belz shouted impatiently, "do me the favour and don't makeno speeches. What has turning a lot of old widders into the street gotto do with Rudnik's mortgage?"
"It's got a whole lot to do with it," Lesengeld replied, "becauseRudnik's house he is leaving to a Home for old women, and if we takeaway the house from him then the Home wouldn't get his house, and theHome is in such shape, Belz, that if it wouldn't make a big killing inthe way of a legacy soon they would bust up s
ure."
"And that's all the reason why we should extend the mortgage onRudnik?" Belz demanded.
"That's all the reason," Lesengeld answered; "with three hundred andfifty dollars a bonus."
"Then all I could say is," Belz declared, "we wouldn't do nothing ofthe kind. What is three =hundred and fifty dollars a bonus in thesetimes, Lesengeld?"
"But the Home," Lesengeld protested.
"The Home should bust up," Belz cried. "What do I care about the Home?"
"_Aber_ the widders?" Lesengeld insisted. "If the Home busts up thewidders is thrown into the street. Ain't it?"
"What is that my fault, Lesengeld? Did I make 'em widders?"
"Sure, I know, Belz; _aber_ one or two of 'em ain't widders. One or twoof 'em is old maids and they would got to go and live back with theirrelations. Especially"--he concluded with a twinkle in hiseye--"especially one of 'em by the name Blooma Duckman."
"Do you mean to told me," Belz faltered, "that them now--widders is inthe Bella Hirshkind Home?"
"For Indignant Females," Lesengeld added, "which Max Schindelberger ispresident from it also."
Belz nodded and remained silent for at least five minutes.
"I'll tell you, Lesengeld," he said at last, "after all it's a hardthing a woman should be left a widder."
"You bet your life it's a hard thing, Belz!" Lesengeld agreedfervently. "Last week I seen it a woman she is kissing her husbandgood-bye, and the baby also kisses him good-bye--decent, respectable,hard-working people, understand me--and not two minutes later he getsrun down by a trollyer car. The next week they take away from her thefurniture, understand me, and she puts the baby into a day nursery, andwhat happens after that I didn't wait to see at all. Cost me ten centsyet in a drug store for some mathematic spirits of ammonia for Mrs.Lesengeld--she carries on so terrible about it."
Belz sighed tremulously.
"All right, Lesengeld," he said; "write Rudnik we would extend themortgage and he should call here to-morrow."
* * * * *
"If I got to lose the house I got to lose it," Harris Rudnik declaredas he sat in B. Lesengeld's revolving chair on the following morning."I ain't got long to live anyhow."
He tucked his hands into his coat-pocket and glared balefully atSchindelberger, who shrugged his shoulders.
"That's the way he is talking right along," he said. "Did you ever hearthe like? Mind you, it ain't that he's got anybody he should leave thehouse to, Mr. Belz, but he ain't got no use for women."
"What d'ye mean, I ain't got no use for women?" Rudnik cried. "I gotjust so much use for women as you got it, _aber_ not for a lot of womenwhich all their lives men make suckers of themselves working theirheads off they should keep 'em in luxury, understand me, and then themen dies, y'understand, right away the widders is put in homes andother men which ain't related to 'em at all must got to leave 'em theirhard-earned _Geld_, Mr. Belz, so they could sit with their hands foldeddoing nothing."
"What are you talking nonsense doing nothing!" Schindelberger retorted."Them old women works like anything up there. I told you before a dozentimes, Rudnik, them women is making underwear and jelly and stockingsand _Gott weiss was noch_."
Rudnik turned appealingly to Belz.
"Mr. Belz," he said, "do me the favour and let me leave my money to a_Talmud Torah oder_ a Free Loan Association."
"Free Loan Association!" Lesengeld and Belz exclaimed with one voice.
"An idee!" Belz shouted. "What d'ye take us for, Rudnik? You are goingtoo far."
"Cutthroats!" Lesengeld muttered hoarsely. "Stealing bread out ofpeople's mouths yet. A lot of people goes to them _Roshoyim_ and fools'em into lending 'em money they should play _Stuss_ and _Tarrok_, whiletheir families is starving yet. If you want to leave your house to aFree Loan Association, Rudnik, you might just so well blow it up _mit_dynamite and be done with it."
"_Aber_ a _Talmud Torah_ School," Rudnik cried; "that's something whichyou couldn't got no objection to."
"Don't talk like a fool, Rudnik!" Schindelberger interrupted. "When yougot a chance to leave your money to a Home for widders, what are youfooling away your time making suggestions like _Talmud Torah_ schoolsfor? A young feller would get along in business if he never even seenthe outside of a _Talmud Torah_, _aber_ if the widders lose their Home,understand me, they would starve to death."
"Yow, they would starve to death!" Rudnik said. "You could trust awidder she wouldn't starve, Mr. Schindelberger. Them which didn't gotno relations they could easy find suckers to give 'em money, and themwhich did got relations, their families should look after 'em."
Belz grew crimson with pent-up indignation.
"Loafer!" he roared. "What d'ye mean, their families should look after'em?"
Belz walked furiously up and down the office and glowered at thetrembling and confused Rudnik.
"Seemingly you ain't got no feelings at all, Rudnik," he continued."Schindelberger tells you over and over again they are working thempoor widders to death up there, and yet you want to take away the roofsfrom their backs even."
"No, I didn't, Mr. Belz," Rudnik said. "I didn't say nothing about aroof at all. Why, I ain't even seen the Home, Mr. Belz. Could youexpect me I should leave my money to a Home without I should see iteven?"
"My worries if you seen it _oder_ not!" Belz retorted. "The thing is,Rudnik, before we would extend for you the mortgage you must got tomake not a will but a deed which you deed the house to the BellaHirshkind Home, keeping for yourself all the income from the house foryour life, because otherwise if a man makes a will he could always makeanother will, _aber_ once you give a deed it is fixed _und fertig_."
This ultimatum was the result of a conference between Belz and hiscounsel the previous evening, and he had timed its announcement to themoment when he deemed his victim to be sufficiently intimidated.Nevertheless, the shock of its disclosure spurred the drooping Rudnikto a fresh outburst.
"What!" he shouted. "I should drive myself out of my house for a lot ofwidders!"
"_Koosh!_" Schindelberger bellowed. "They ain't all widders. Two of 'emis old maids, Rudnik, and even if they would be all widders you mustgot to do as Mr. Belz says, otherwise you would drive yourself out ofyour house anyway. Because in these times not only you couldn't raiseno new second mortgage on the house, but if Lesengeld and Belzforecloses on you the house would hardly bring in auction the amount ofthe first mortgage even."
Rudnik sat back in his chair and plucked at his scant gray beard. Herecognized the force of Schindelberger's argument and deemed it thepart of discretion to temporize with his mortgagees.
"Why didn't you told me there is a couple old maids up there?" he saidto Schindelberger. "Old maids is horses of another colour; so come on,Mr. Schindelberger, do me the favour and go up with me so I couldanyhow see the Home first."
He slid out of his chair and smiled at Schindelberger, who staredfrigidly in return.
"You got a big idee of yourself, Rudnik, I must say," he commented."What do you think, I ain't got nothing better to do as escort you upto the Bella Hirshkind Home?"
"Rudnik is right, Schindelberger," Lesengeld said; "you should ought toshow him the Home before he leaves his house to it."
"I would show him nothing," Schindelberger cried. "Here is my card togive to the superintendent, and all he is got to do is to go up on thesubway from the bridge. Get off at Bronix Park and take a Mount Vernoncar to Ammerman Avenue. Then you walk six blocks east and follow theNew Haven tracks toward the trestle. The Home is the first house youcome to. You couldn't miss it."
Rudnik took the card and started for the door, while Belz nodded sadlyat his partner.
"And you are kicking I am cranky yesterday morning," he said. "In thedaytime is all right going up there, but in the night, Lesengeld, abloodhound could get twisted. Every time I go up there I think wonder Iget back home at all."
"I bet yer," Lesengeld said. "The other evening I seen a fillum by thename Lawst i
n the Jungle, and----"
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Schindelberger interrupted, "I got a littlebusiness to attend to by my office, and if it's all the same to you Iwould come here with Rudnik to-morrow morning ten o'clock."
"By the name Lawst in the Jungle," Lesengeld repeated with anadmonitory glare at Schindelberger, "which a young feller gets ate upwith a tiger already; and I says to Mrs. Lesengeld: 'Mommer,' I says,'people could say all they want to how fine it is to live in thecountry,' I says, 'give me New York City every time,' I says to mywife."
* * * * *
Harris Rudnik had been encouraged to misogyny by cross eyes and apockmarked complexion. Nevertheless, he was neither so confirmed in hishatred of the sex nor so discouraged by his physical deformities as toneglect shaving himself and changing into a clean collar and hisSabbath blacks before he began his journey to the Bella Hirshkind Home.Thus when he alighted from the Mount Vernon car at Ammerman Avenue hepresented, at least from the rear, so spruce an appearance as toattract the notice of no less a person than Miss Blooma Duckmanherself.
Miss Duckman was returning from an errand on which she had beendispatched by the superintendent of the Home, for of all the inmatesshe was not only the youngest but the spryest, and although she was atleast half a block behind Harris when she first caught sight of him,she had no difficulty in overtaking him before he reached the railroadtrack.
"Excuse me," she said as he hesitated at the side of the track, "areyou maybe looking for the Bella Hirshkind Home?"
Harris started and blushed, but at length his misogyny asserted itselfand he turned a beetling frown on Miss Duckman.
"What d'ye mean, am I looking for the Bella Hirshkind Home?" he said."Do you suppose I come up here all the way from Brooklyn Bridge towatch the trains go by?"
"I thought maybe you didn't know the way," Miss Duckman suggested. "Yougo along that there path and it's the first house you are coming to."
She pointed to the path skirting the railroad track, and Harris beganto perspire as he found himself surrendering to an impulse ofpoliteness toward this very young old lady. He conquered itimmediately, however, and cleared his throat raspingly.
"I couldn't swim exactly," he retorted as he surveyed the miry trailindicated by Miss Duckman, "so I guess I'll walk along the railroad."
"You could do that, too," Miss Duckman said, "_aber_ I ain't allowedto, on account the rules of the Home says we shouldn't walk along thetracks."
Harris raised his eyebrows.
"You don't mean to told me you are one of them indignant females?" heexclaimed.
"I belong in the Home," Miss Duckman replied, colouring slightly, andRudnik felt himself being overcome by a wave of remorse for hisbluntness. He therefore searched his mind for a sufficiently gruffrejoinder, and finding none he shrugged his shoulders.
"Well," he said at last, "there's worser places, lady."
Miss Duckman nodded.
"Maybe," she murmured; "and anyhow I ain't so bad off as some of themother ladies up there which they used to got husbands and homes oftheir own."
"Ain't you a widder, too?" Rudnik asked, his curiosity again gettingthe upper hand.
"I ain't never been married," Miss Duckman answered as she drew hershawl primly about her.
"Well, you ain't missed much," Rudnik declared, "so far as I couldsee."
"Why," Miss Duckman exclaimed, "ain't you never been married, neither?"
Rudnik blinked solemnly before replying.
"You're just like a whole lot of ladies," he said; "you must got tofind out everything." He turned away and stepped briskly on to therailroad track.
"But ain't you married?" Miss Duckman insisted.
"No," he growled as he started off. "_Gott sei dank._"
For a brief interval Miss Duckman stood and watched his progress alongthe ties, and then she gathered her parcels more firmly in her arms andbegan to negotiate the quagmire that led to the Home. She had notproceeded more than a hundred feet, however, when a locomotive whistlesounded in the distance.
"Hey, mister!" she shouted; but even if Rudnik heard the warning itserved only to hasten his footsteps. Consequently the train was almostupon him before he became aware of it, and even as he leaped wildly toone side the edge of the cowcatcher struck him a glancing blow. MissDuckman dropped her bundles and plunged through the mud to where Rudniklay, while the train, which was composed of empty freight cars, slid toa grinding stop a short distance up the track.
She was kneeling recklessly in the mud supporting Rudnik with both herhands when the engineer and the fireman reached them.
"Is your husband hurted bad?" the engineer asked Miss Duckman.
The tears were rolling down Miss Duckman's worn cheeks, and her lipstrembled so that she could not reply. Nevertheless, at the word"husband" her maidenly heart gave a tremendous bound, and when theengineer and the fireman lifted Rudnik gently into the caboose herconfusion was such that without protest she permitted the conductor toassist her carefully up the car steps.
"Sit ye down on that stool there, lady," he said. "As far as I can seeyour man ain't got no bones broken."
"But----" Miss Duckman protested.
"Now, me dear lady," the conductor interrupted, "don't ye go worritin'yerself. I've got me orders if anybody gets hit be the train to takehim to the nearest company's doctor in the direction I'm goin'. See?And if you was Mister and Missus Vanderbilt, they couldn't treat you nobetter up to the Emergency Hospital."
"But----" Miss Duckman began. Again she attempted to explain thatRudnik was not her husband, and again the conductor forestalled her.
"And if he's able to go home to-night," he said finally, "ye'll begiven free transportation, in a parlour car d'ye mind, like ye'd be onyour honeymoon."
He patted her gently on the shoulder as he turned to a waitingbrakeman.
"Let her go, Bill," he cried, and with a jubilant toot from the engineMiss Duckman's elopement was fairly under way.
* * * * *
When Harris Rudnik opened his eyes in the little white-curtained roomof the Emergency Hospital, Miss Duckman sat beside his bed. She smiledencouragingly at him, but for more than five minutes he made no effortto speak.
"Well," he said at length, "what are you kicking about? It's an elegantplace, this here Home."
Miss Duckman laid her fingers on her lips.
"You shouldn't speak nothing," she whispered, "on account you are sick,_aber_ not serious sick."
"I know I am sick," Rudnik replied. "I was just figuring it all out. Iam getting knocked down by a train and----"
"No bones is broken," Miss Duckman hastened to assure him. "You wouldbe out in a few days."
"I am satisfied," he said faintly. "You got a fine place here, Missis."
Miss Duckman laid her hand on Rudnik's pillow.
"I ain't a Missis," she murmured. "My name is Miss Blooma Duckman."
"Blooma," Rudnik muttered. "I once used to got a sister by the nameBlooma, and it ain't a bad name, neither." He was not entirely softenedby his mishap, however. "But, anyhow, that ain't here or there," hesaid. "Women is just the same--always kicking. What is the matter withthis Home, Miss Duckman? It's an elegant place already."
"This ain't the Home," Miss Duckman explained. "This is a hospital,which when you was hit by the engine they put you on the train and tookyou up here."
"_Aber_ what are you doing here?" he asked after a pause.
"I come along," Miss Duckman said; "and now you shouldn't talk nomore."
"What d'ye mean, you come along?" he cried. "Didn't you go back to theHome?"
Miss Duckman shook her head, and Rudnik turned on his pillow and lookedinquiringly at her.
"How long am I up here, anyhow?" he demanded.
"Four days," Miss Duckman said, and Rudnik closed his eyes again. Forten minutes longer he lay still and then his lips moved.
"What did you say?" Miss Duckman asked.
/> "I says Blooma is a pretty good name already," he murmured, smilingfaintly, and the next moment he sank into a light sleep.
When he awoke Miss Duckman still sat by the side of his bed, herfingers busy over the hem of a sheet, and he glanced nervously at thewindow through which the late afternoon sun came streaming.
"Ain't it pretty late you should be away from the Home?" he inquired."It must be pretty near six, ain't it?"
"I know it," Miss Duckman said; "and the doctor says at six you shouldtake this here powder."
"_Aber_ shouldn't you got to be getting ready to go back to the Home?"he asked.
Miss Duckman shook her head.
"I ain't going back no more," she answered. "I got enough of thempeople."
Rudnik looked helplessly at her.
"But what would you do?" he said. "You ain't got no other place to goto, otherwise you wouldn't got to live in a Home."
"Sure, I know," she replied as she prepared to give him his powder;"but _Gott sei dank_ I still got my health, and I am telling the ladysuperintendent here how they work me at the Home, and she says I couldstop here till I am finding something to do. I could cook already and Icould sew already, and if the worser comes to the worst I could find ajob in an underwear factory. They don't pay much, but a woman like meshe don't eat much. All I want is I could get a place to sleep, and Ibet yer I could make out fine. So you should please take the powder."
Rudnik swallowed his powder.
"You says you could cook," he remarked after he had again settledhimself on his pillow. "_Tzimmus_, for instance, _und Fleisch Kugel_?"
"_Tzimmus und Fleisch Kugel_ is nothing," she declared. "I don't wantto say nothing about myself, understand me, because lots of women tohear 'em talk you would think wonder what cooks they are, and theycouldn't even boil a potater even; _aber_ if you could eat my _gefuellteRinderbrust_, Mister ----"
"Rudnik," he said as he licked his moist lips, "Harris Rudnik."
"Mister Rudnik," she proceeded, "_oder_ my _Tebeches_, you would got toadmit I ain't so helpless as I look."
"You don't look so helpless," Rudnik commented; "I bet yer you could dowashing even."
"Could I?" Miss Duckman exclaimed. "Why, sometimes at the Home I amwashing from morning till night, _aber_ I ain't kicking none. It reallyagrees with me, Mr. Rudnik."
Rudnik nodded. Again he closed his eyes, and had it not been that heswallowed convulsively at intervals he would have appeared to besleeping. Suddenly he raised himself on his pillow.
"Do you make maybe a good cup coffee also?" he inquired.
"A good cup coffee I make in two ways," Miss Duckman answered. "Thefirst is----"
Rudnik waved his hand feebly.
"I'll take your word for it," he said, and again lapsed into quietude.
"D'ye know," he murmured at length, "I ain't drunk a good cup coffee inyears already?"
Miss Duckman made no answer. Indeed she dropped her sewing and passednoiselessly out of the room, and when she returned ten minutes latershe bore on a linen-covered tray a cup of steaming, fragrant coffee.
"How was that?" Miss Duckman asked after he had emptied the cup.
Rudnik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"All I could say is," he replied, "if your _Tzimmus_ ain't no worser asyour coffee, Miss Duckman, nobody could kick that you ain't a goodcook."
Miss Duckman's faded cheeks grew pink and she smiled happily.
"I guess you are trying to make me a compliment," she said.
"In my whole life I never made for a woman a compliment," Rudnikdeclared. "I never even so much as met one I could make a compliment toyet except you, and _mit_ you it ain't no compliment, after all. It'sthe truth."
He lay back on his pillow and gazed at the ceiling for fully a quarterof an hour, while Miss Duckman sewed away industriously.
"After all," he said at last, "why not? Older men as me done it."
"Did you say something?" Miss Duckman asked.
Rudnik cleared his throat noisily.
"I says," he replied, "you should please be so good and don't botheryourself about that--now--underwear factory job till I am getting outof here."
* * * * *
"A Home is a Home," B. Lesengeld said as he and Belz sat in the officenearly a week later; "but if Schindelberger wouldn't show up here withRudnik to-day yet, Belz, we would foreclose sure."
"Would we?" Belz retorted. "Well, I got something to say about that,too, Lesengeld, and I'm going to give the Bella Hirshkind people acouple days longer. To-day is Blooma Duckman's day out again, and meand Mrs. Belz we sit home last night and we couldn't do a thing onaccount Mrs. Belz is dreading it so. Think what it would be if thatwoman is thrown back on our hands."
"If she is so terrible as all that why do you let her come at all?"Lesengeld asked, and Belz heaved a great sigh.
"I'll tell you, Lesengeld," he said, "she's really got a very goodheart, y'understand; _aber_ is it Mrs. Belz's fault she ain't such a ANumber One cook? Every time that Blooma Duckman comes round she rubs itin yet, and she snoops under beds to see is it clean _oder_ not, andshe gets the girl so worked up, understand me, that we are hiring a newone every week. At the same time the woman means well, Lesengeld, butyou know how that is: some people means so well you couldn't stand 'emat all."
Lesengeld nodded.
"Sure, I know," he said. "I seen it last week a case where a feller allthe time means well and is trying to do good. He is taking pity on atramp, understand me, and the tramp _ganvers_ his silver spoons andeverything, and I says to Mrs. Lesengeld: 'Mommer,' I says, 'it onlygoes to show,' I says, 'if you feel you are beginning to take pity on afeller,' I says, 'you shouldn't got no mercy on him at all,' I says.'Otherwise he will go to work and do you every time,' I says. So that'swhy I am telling you, Belz, I guess the best thing we could do iswe should right away foreclose Rudnik's house on him. Then ifSchindelberger is such a charitable sucker as all that, let him buy inthe house for the Bella Hirshkind Home and be done with it. All we wantis our money back and we would be satisfied. What is the use weconsider Rudnik's feelings. Ain't it?"
"Do you think I am holding off on Rudnik's account?" Belz exclaimedindignantly. "I never even got an idee to take pity on the feller atall. An old snoozer like him which he's got only one house to his name,understand me, he don't deserve no better. So go ahead and ring upSchindelberger and tell him that's what we would do."
Lesengeld turned to the desk, but even as he took the telephonereceiver from the hook Schindelberger himself came in.
"_Endlich!_" Belz exclaimed. "We was expecting you a whole week yet.Are you ready to fix up about Rudnik's mortgage?"
Schindelberger sat down and carefully placed his hat on Belz's desk.
"The mortgage I didn't come to see you about exactly," he said. "I gotsomething else to tell you."
"Something else I ain't interested in at all," Belz rejoined. "We wasjust going to telephone and ask you why don't Rudnik fix it up aboutthe mortgage?"
"I am coming to that presently," Schindelberger said. "What I want tosay now is, Mr. Belz, that I am very sorry I got to come here and tellyou an information about your wife's cousin, Miss Blooma Duckman."
"Blooma Duckman!" Belz exclaimed. "What's the trouble; is she sick?"
Schindelberger shook his head.
"Worser as that," he explained. "She disappeared from the BellaHirshkind Home a week ago already and nobody sees nothing from hersince."
For a brief interval Belz stared at his visitor and then he turned toLesengeld.
"Ain't that a fine note?" he said.
"All we are discovering is a couple packages she got with her, whichthe superintendent sends her over to West Farms she should buy somegroceries, and on her way back she drops the packages and disappears."
"Might she fell down a rock maybe?" Lesengeld suggested. "The other dayI am seeing a fillum where a feller falls down a rock already and theysearch for him a hundred peop
le yet. They get near him as I am to you,Schindelberger, and still they couldn't find him anyhow on account thefeller is too weak to say something."
"How could she fall down a rock?" Schindelberger interrupted. "It's allswamps up there. But, anyhow, Belz, we are wasting time here talkingabout it. The best thing is you should ring up the police."
"What d'ye mean, wasting time?" Belz cried. "You're a fine one to talkabout wasting time. Here the woman disappears a week ago already andyou are only just telling me now."
Schindelberger blushed.
"Well, you see," he said, "we all the time got hopes she would comeback." In point of fact he had purposely delayed breaking the news toBelz in order that the settlement of Rudnik's mortgage extension shouldnot be prejudiced. "But now," he added ingenuously, "it don't make nodifference, because Rudnik telephones me yesterday morning that thewhole thing is off on account he is married."
"Married!" Lesengeld cried. "Do you mean to told me that old_Schlemiel_ gets married yet?"
"So sure as you are sitting there. And he says he would come round herethis morning and see you."
"He should save himself the trouble," Belz declared angrily. "Nowparticularly that Blooma Duckman ain't up there at all, I wouldn'textend that mortgage, not if he gives a deed to that Home to takeeffect right to-day yet. I shouldn't begun with you in the first place,Schindelberger."
Schindelberger seized his hat.
"I acted for the best," he said. "I am sorry you should get delayed onyour mortgage, gentlemen, _aber_ you shouldn't hold it up againstme. I done it for the sake of the Bella Hirshkind Home, which if peoplegets sore at me on account I always act charitable, that's theirlookout, not mine."
He started for the door as he finished speaking, but as he placed hishand on the knob some one turned it from the other side and the nextmoment he stood face to face with Rudnik.
"So!" Schindelberger exclaimed. "You are really coming up here, areyou? It ain't a bluff, like you are taking my card to go up to the Homeand you never went near the place at all."
Rudnik shut the door behind him.
"What d'ye mean, I didn't go near the place at all?" he said angrily."Do you think I am such a liar like you are, Schindelberger? Not onlydid I go near the place, but I got so near it that a hundred feet moreand the engine would knocked me into the front door of the Homealready."
It was then that Lesengeld and Belz observed the stout cane on whichRudnik supported himself.
"I come pretty close to being killed already on account I am going upto the Home," he continued; "and if nobody is asking me to sit down Iwould sit down anyway, because if a feller gets run over by a train henaturally don't feel so strong, even if he would escape with bruisesonly."
"Did you got run over with a train?" Schindelberger asked.
"I certainly did," Rudnik said. "I got run over with a train andmarried in six days, and if you go to work and foreclose my house on meto-day yet, it will sure make a busy week for me." He lookedpathetically at Belz. "Unless," he added, "you are going to give me ashow and extend the mortgage."
Belz met this appeal with stolid indifference.
"Of course, Rudnik," he said, "I'm sorry you got run over with a train;but if we would extend your mortgage on account you got run over with atrain and our other mortgagees hears of it, understand me, the waymoney is so tight nowadays, every time a mortgage comes due themsuckers would ring in trollyer-car accidents on us and fall downcoal-holes so as we would give 'em an extension already."
"And wouldn't it make no difference that I just got married?" Rudnikasked.
"If an old feller like you gets married, Rudnik," Belz replied, "hemust got to take the consequences."
"An idee!" Lesengeld exclaimed. "Do you think that we are makingwedding presents to our mortgagees yet, Rudnik?"
"It serves you right, Rudnik," Schindelberger said. "If you wouldconsent to the Home getting your property I wouldn't said nothing aboutMiss Duckman's disappearing and Belz would of extended the mortgage onyou."
"I was willing to do it," Rudnik said, "_aber_ my wife wouldn't let me.She says rather than see the house go that way she would let yougentlemen foreclose it on us, even if she would got to starve."
"I don't know who your wife is," Schindelberger rejoined angrily, "butshe talks like a big fool."
"No, she don't," Rudnik retorted; "she talks like a sensible woman,because, in the first place, she wouldn't got to starve. I got enoughstrength left that I could always make for her and me anyhow a living,and, in the second place, the Home really ain't a home. It's abusiness."
"A business!" Schindelberger cried. "What d'ye mean, a business?"
"I mean a business," Rudnik replied, "an underwear business. Them poorwomen up there makes underwear from morning till night already, andSchindelberger here got a brother-in-law which he buys it from the Homefor pretty near half as much as it would cost him to make it."
"_Rosher!_" Max Schindelberger shrieked. "Who tells you such stories?"
"My wife tells me," Rudnik replied.
"And how does your wife know it?" Belz demanded.
"Because," Rudnik answered, "she once used to live in the Home."
"Then that only goes to show what a liar you are," Schindelberger said."Your wife couldn't of been in the Home on account it only gets startedlast year, and everybody which went in there ain't never come out yet."
"Everybody but one," Rudnik said as he seized his cane, and raisinghimself from the chair he hobbled to the door.
"Blooma _leben_," he cried, throwing the door wide open; and inresponse Mrs. Rudnik, nee Blooma Duckman, entered.
"_Nu_, Belz," she said, "ain't you going to congradulate me?"
"Nu, Belz, ain't you going to congradulate me?"]
Belz sat back in his chair and stared at his wife's cousin inunaffected astonishment, while Schindelberger noiselessly opened thedoor and slid out of the room unnoticed.
"And so you run away from the Home and married this _Schnorrer_?" Belzsaid at length.
"_Schnorrer_ he ain't," she retorted, "unless you would go to work andforeclose the house."
"It would serve you right if I did," Belz rejoined.
"Then you ain't going to?" Mrs. Rudnik asked.
"What d'ye mean, he ain't going to?" Lesengeld interrupted. "Ain't Igot nothing to say here? Must I got to sacrifice myself for Belz'swife's relations?"
"_Koosh_, Lesengeld!" Belz exploded. "You take too much on yourself. Doyou think for one moment I am going to foreclose that mortgage and havethem two old people _schnorring_ their living expenses out of me forthe rest of my days, just to oblige you? The mortgage runs at 6 percent., and it's going to continue to do so. Six per cent. ain't to besneezed at, neither."
"And ain't he going to pay us no bonus nor nothing?" Lesengeld asked inanguished tones.
"Bonus!" Belz cried; "what are you talking about, bonus? Do you mean totold me you would ask an old man which he nearly gets killed by a trainalready a bonus yet? Honestly, Lesengeld, I'm surprised at you. The wayyou talk sometimes it ain't no wonder people calls us second-mortgagesharks."
"But, lookyhere, Belz----" Lesengeld began.
"'S enough, Lesengeld," Belz interrupted. "You're lucky I don't ask youyou should make 'em a wedding present yet."
"I suppose, Belz, you're going to make 'em a wedding present, too,ain't it?" Lesengeld jeered.
"That's just what I'm going to do," Belz said as he turned to the safe.He fumbled round the middle compartment and finally produced two yellowslips of paper. "I'm going to give 'em these here composition notes ofSchindelberger's, and with what Blooma knows about the way that_Rosher_ is running the Bella Hirshkind Home she shouldn't got nodifficulty making him pay up."
He handed the notes to Rudnik.
"And now," he said, "sit right down and tell us how it comes that youand Blooma gets married."
For more than a quarter of an hour Rudnik described the details of hismeeting with Miss Blooma Duckman, together with his hopes and
aspirations for the future, and when he concluded Belz turned to hispartner.
"Ain't it funny how things happens?" he said. "Honestly, Lesengeld,ain't that more interesting than most things you could see it on amoving pictures?"
Lesengeld nodded sulkily.
"It sure ought to be," he said, "because to go on a moving pictures youpay only ten cents, _aber_ this here story costs me my half of athree-hundred-and-fifty dollar bonus. However, I suppose I shouldn'tbegrudge it 'em. I seen the other evening a fillum by the name TheReturn of Enoch Aarons, where an old feller stands outside on thestreet and looks through a winder, and he sees a happy married couple_mit_ children sitting in front of a fire. So I says to my wife:'Mommer,' I says, 'if that old snoozer would only get married,' I says,'he wouldn't got to stand outside winders looking at other peoplehaving a good time,' I says. 'He would be enjoying with his own wifeand children,' I says, and I thinks right away of Rudnik here." Heplaced his hand on Rudnik's shoulder as he spoke. "But now Rudnik ismarried," he concluded, "and even if he wouldn't got children he's gota good wife anyhow, which it stands in the _Siddur_ already--a goodwife is more valuable as rubies."
Rudnik seized the hand of his blushing bride. "And," he added, "rubiesis pretty high nowadays."