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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Our other styles, too, he turns out wonderful. Our Empire models what he designs for us, Abe, I assure you is also making a tremendous sensation. You ought to see the letter we got this morning from Horowitz & Finkelbein." Barney blew his nose with a loud snort. "I guess I'll go upstairs, and see what the boys is doing in the cutting-room, Leon," he said, and made a hasty exit.
Back, and well out of the picture, a potted hydrangea beside the Louis Quinze armchair, her hands in silk mitts laid out along the gold-chair sides, her head quavering in a kind of mild palsy, Mrs. Miriam Horowitz, smiling and quivering her state of bewilderment. With an unfailing propensity to lay hold of to whomsoever he spake, Mr.
Haas, with his nice big car, will drive us all home again. You know Mr. Haas, dearie Lester's uncle that had us drove so careful in his fine car. You remember, dearie Lester's uncle?" Mrs. Horowitz looked up, her old face crackling to smile. "My grandchild! My grandchild! She'm a fine one. Not? My grandchild! My grandchild!" "You mustn't mind, Mr. Haas.
Suddenly and of her own volition, and with a cry that shot up through the room, rending it like a gash, Mrs. Horowitz, who moved by inches, sprang to her supreme height, her arms, the crooks forced out, flung up. "My darlings what died for it! My darlings what died for it my darlings Aylorff my husband!"
"You're right, Mawruss," he said at length; "I'll go and see Henry D. Feldman the first thing to-morrow morning." The next morning Leon Sammet sat at his roll-top desk in his private office, while Barney went over the morning mail. "Hallo," Barney cried, "here's a check from Horowitz & Finkelbein for the full amount of their bill, Leon.
A crowd of people we can be proud to entertain, not? Come; sit quiet in another room for a while, and then Mr. Haas, with his nice big car, will drive us all home again. You know Mr. Haas, dearie Lester's uncle that had us drove so careful in his fine big car. You remember, dearie Lester's uncle?" Mrs. Horowitz looked up, her old face cracking to smile. "My grandchild! My grandchild!
I bet you they done an increased business of twenty per cent. with that young feller's designs. I met Ike Gotthelf, buyer for Horowitz & Finkelbein, and he tells me he gave Sammet Brothers a two-thousand-dollar order a couple of weeks ago, including a hundred and twenty-two garments of that new-style they got out, which they call the Arverne Sacque, one of Louis Grossman's new models."
Horowitz, her gilt armchair well cushioned for the occasion, and her black grenadine spread decently about her, looked out upon the scene, her slightly palsied head well forward. "Mama, you got enough? You wouldn't have missed it, eh? A crowd of people we can be proud to entertain. Not? Come; sit quiet in another room for a while, and then Mr.
Beside the table, bare except for the formal, unthumbed Bible, Mrs. Horowitz rattled out her paper, her near-sighted eyes traveling back and forth across the page. Music from the ferned-in orchestra came in drifts, faint, not so faint. From somewhere, then immediately from everywhere, beyond, below, without, the fast shouts of newsboys mingling.
Beside the stove, a base-burner with faint fire showing through its mica, the identity of her figure merged with the fat upholstery of the chair, except where the faint pink through the mica lighted up old flesh, Mrs. Miriam Horowitz, full of years and senile with them, wove with grasses, the écru of her own skin, wreaths that had mounted to a great stack in a bedroom cupboard.
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