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It seems yesterday, Rosie, I was learning her to walk along Grand Street." "You haven't noticed, Roody, David Feist?" "'Noticed'?" "Say, you may be a smart man, Rudolph Pelz everybody tells me you are but they should know once on the Picture Rialto how dumb as a father you are. 'Noticed? he asks.
If I don't buy that machine off Emil Hahn, somebody else will see in it what I see. Then all our lives we will have something to reproach ourselves with." Mrs. Pelz let slide her hand beneath the pillow, eyes closing and her face seeming to whiten. "Ninety dollars! Twenty dollars less than every cent we got saved in the world. It ain't right we should gamble with it, Roody. Not now."
Pelz, his voice suddenly lost in the violent plunge of water into porcelain.
At a very low tide in the affairs of the Novelty Rainy Day Skirt Company, Canal Street, that year of our Lord, 1898, when letter-head stationery was about to be rewritten and the I-haven't-seen-you-since-last-century jocosity was about to be born, Rudolph Pelz closed his workaday by ushering out Mr.
Pelz took me down to the projection-room to see its first showing, and I give you my word I said to him and Sol didn't I, Roody? 'That picture is a fortune. And never in my life did I fail to pick a winner did I, Roody? I got a knack for it. Mr. Feist, have you seen 'The Lure of Silk'?" "Sorry to say I have not." "If you think that is a riot, Mrs.
"Why, Darling Beautiful, when they're through with me, they'll pay me off in my weight in gold. Haven't you said things often enough about your boy's temper when he lets it fly? You think they're going to let me cut up nonsense with that little Reddie of theirs? Why, that old man would pay with his right eye to protect her!" "O God, it's rotten a nice fellow like Pelz a "
Didn't I promise you, Lester, that if you came up to dinner I'd drive you back to the club myself?" "She sure did, Mrs. Pelz." "Bleema, you stay right here and finish your supper. There's two chauffeurs on the place to drive Spencer around to his club." "But, dad, I promised." "Why, Bleema, ain't you ashamed? Mr. Feist here for dinner and you to run off like that. Shame on you!"
"Lester Spencer, if you don't stop making eyes!" "Mr. Pelz, every time I drink to your daughter only with my eyes she slaps me on the wrist. You put in a good word for me." "Little more of that ice-cream, Feist?" "Thanks, Pelz; no." "You, Lester?" "Don't care if I do, Miss Bleema Butterfly." Mr. Pelz flashed out a watch.
Suddenly Miss Pelz burst into tears, a hot cascade of them that flowed down over her prettiness. "Why, Bleema!" "Now, now, papa's girl " The grandmother made a quick gesture of uplifted hands, leaning over toward her, and Miss Pelz hiding her face against that haven of shrunken old bosom. "Oh, grandma, make 'em let me alone!" "Why, Bleema darling, I'm surprised!
"She's got to quit wasting her time on that conceited jackass," said Mr. Pelz, swallowing off his demi-tasse at a gulp. "Won't have it!" "It makes her papa mad the way the boys just kill themselves over that girl," said Mrs. Pelz, arch of glance toward Mr. Feist, who was stirring also, his eyes lowered. "Me, too," he said, softly. "Jealous!" flashed Mrs. Pelz.
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