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"For the first time in my life, Miss Renie, I got the feeling from a girl that, for me, life maybe my life is just beginning. Like a vine, Miss Renie, you got yourself tangled round my feelings." "Oh, Mr. Hochenheimer!"
Hochenheimer some more of that red cabbage." "No, no please, Mrs. Shongut; I got plenty." "Ach, Mr. Hochenheimer, you eat so little you must be in love." "Mamma!" "Ach, Mr. Hochenheimer knows that I only fool. Renie, pass the dumplings." "No, no please! "Mamma, don't force. You're not bashful, are you, Mr. Hochenheimer?"
A little thrill of breeze fluttered her filmy shoulder scarf against his hand. To his fermenting fancy it was as though her spirit had flitted out of the flesh. "Ah, Miss Renie, I I " "What, Mr. Hochenheimer?" "Nothing. Your your little shawl, it tickled my hand so." She leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair and cupped her chin in her palm.
Hochenheimer, your mother is proud of such a son as can give her twenty-five rooms."
I hope Miss Renie don't mind if I spend the evening?" "I should say not." "Hochenheimer, a cigar?" "Thanks; I don't smoke." "My husband, with his heart trouble, shouldn't smoke, neither, Mr. Hochenheimer; it worries me enough. What me and the doctors tell him goes in one ear and out of the other." "See, Hochenheimer, when you get a wife how henpecked you get!"
"A henpeck never drew much blood, Shongut." "Come, Adolph; it is a long car-ride to Meena's." They pushed back from the table, the four of them, smiling-lipped. With his short-fingered, hairy-backed hands Mr. Hochenheimer dusted at his coat lapels, then shook his bulging trousers knees into place. The lamp of inner sanctity burns in strange temples.
If it wasn't for my garden and the beautiful scenery from my terraces, I would wish myself back in our little down-town house more than once, too. I tell you, Mrs. Shongut, fineness ain't everything." "You should bring your mother some time to Mound City with you when you come over on business, Mr. Hochenheimer. We would do our best to make it pleasant for her." "She's an old woman, Mrs.
Your brother Izzy, I tell you, could do well to mock after Max Hochenheimer a man what made hisself; a man what built up for hisself in Cincinnati a business in country sausages that is known all over the world." "Country sausages!"
Her daughter read, blew the envelope open at its ripped end and inserted the letter. Her eyes, gray as dawn, met her mother's. "Well, Renie, is is he well?" Silence. "You're afraid, I guess, it gives me a little pleasure if I know what he has to say. A girl gets a letter from a man like Max Hochenheimer, of Cincinnati, and sits like a funeral!"
"Adolph, I guess Mr. Hochenheimer will excuse us eh? Renie, you can entertain Mr. Hochenheimer while me and papa go and spend the evening over at Aunt Meena's. Mr. Shongut's sister, Mr. Hochenheimer, 'ain't been so well. Anyways, I always say young folks 'ain't got no time for old ones." "You go right ahead along, Mrs. Shongut. Don't treat me like company.
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