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Updated: June 10, 2025
One time when he had just come back from Frenna's and had been sitting in the chair near her, silently watching her at her work, he exclaimed all of a sudden: "Stop working. Stop it, I tell you. Put 'em away. Put 'em all away, or I'll pinch you." "But why why?" Trina protested. The dentist cuffed her ears. "I won't have you work."
Marcus bade the Sieppes farewell. He and Heise went out together. One heard them, as they descended the stairs, discussing the possibility of Frenna's place being still open. Then Miss Baker departed after kissing Trina on both cheeks. Selina went with her. There was only the family left. Trina watched them go, one by one, with an increasing feeling of uneasiness and vague apprehension.
Ought to have taken a car." "I guess so I guess so," murmured the dentist, confused. His teeth were chattering. "YOU'RE going to catch your death-a-cold," exclaimed Heise. "Tell you what," he said, reaching for his hat, "come in next door to Frenna's and have something to warm you up. I'll get the old lady to mind the shop." He called Mrs.
Then McTeague would return to Polk Street and find Heise in the back room of the harness shop, and occasionally the day ended with some half dozen drinks of whiskey at Joe Frenna's saloon. It was curious to note the effect of the alcohol upon the dentist. It did not make him drunk, it made him vicious.
He had not been there for some time, and, besides that, it occurred to him that the day was his birthday. He would permit himself an extra pipe and a few glasses of beer. When McTeague entered Frenna's back room by the street door, he found Marcus and Heise already installed at one of the tables. Two or three of the old Germans sat opposite them, gulping their beer from time to time.
The cable cars trundled by, loaded with theatregoers. The barbers were just closing their shops. The candy store on the corner was brilliantly lighted and was filling up, while the green and yellow lamps from the drug store directly opposite threw kaleidoscopic reflections deep down into the shining surface of the asphalt. A band of Salvationists began to play and pray in front of Frenna's saloon.
It was a pose which he often assumed, certain of impressing the dentist. Marcus had picked up a few half-truths of political economy it was impossible to say where and as soon as the two had settled themselves to their beer in Frenna's back room he took up the theme of the labor question. He discussed it at the top of his voice, vociferating, shaking his fists, exciting himself with his own noise.
After they had taken the dog to the hospital and had left him to whimper behind the wire netting, they returned to Polk Street and had a glass of beer in the back room of Joe Frenna's corner grocery. Ever since they had left the huge mansion on the avenue, Marcus had been attacking the capitalists, a class which he pretended to execrate.
For Frenna's was one of Marcus Schouler's haunts; a great deal of his time was spent there. He involved himself in fearful political and social discussions with Heise the harness-maker, and with one or two old German, habitues of the place.
"I KNOW he's drinking somewhere," she cried, apprehensively. "He had the money from his sign with him." At eight o'clock she threw a shawl over her head and went over to the harness shop. If anybody would know where McTeague was it would be Heise. But the harness-maker had seen nothing of him since the day before. "He was in here yesterday afternoon, and we had a drink or two at Frenna's.
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