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Updated: May 11, 2025
She looked forward to it with a certain relief. The weather had turned unseasonably warm, as Chicago Octobers sometimes do. Up to the last moment she had tried to shake Theodore's determination to take Mizzi and Otti with him. But he was stubborn. "I've got to have her," he said.
Fenger's face at sight of Mizzi, and Theodore with his violin, and Otti with her shawls and paraphernalia. Though," she added, seriously, "it's mighty kind of you, and generous and just like a man." "It isn't kindness nor generosity that makes me want to do things for you." "Modest," murmured Fanny, wickedly, "as always." Fenger bent his look upon her. "Don't try the ingenue on me, Fanny."
"She's in trouble. This war. And she hasn't any money. I know. Look here. We've got to send her money. Cable it." "I will. Just leave it all to me." "If she's here, in this country, and you're lying to me " "She isn't. My word of honor, Ted." He relaxed. Life was a very complicated thing for Fanny these days. Ted was leaning on her; Mizzi, Otti, and now Fenger.
Otti took it, only half comprehending, but sure of its power. In a week, Otti's eyes were shadowless, her lips smiling, her pay-envelope bulging. But it was in Sophy Kumpf that the T. A. Buck Company best exemplified its policy. Sophy Kumpf had come to Buck's thirty years before, slim, pink-cheeked, brown-haired.
Auch Shecago." Fanny nodded a number of times, first up and down, signifying assent, then sideways, signifying unbounded wonder and admiration. She made a gigantic effort to summon her forgotten German. "Was ist Ihre Name?" she managed to ask. "Otti." "Oh, my!" exclaimed Fanny, weakly. "Mizzi and Otti. It sounds like the first act of the `Merry Widow." She turned to Theodore.
"Aber sure," Otti displayed her half dozen English words whenever possible. Fanny stared a moment. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "To-morrow's Saturday," she said, in German. "If it's fair and warm you put on that costume and take Mizzi to the park.... Certainly the animal cages, if you want to. If any one annoys you, come home.
Her fat and dimpled hands smoothed the blue, or pink or white folds with a complacency astonishing in one of her years. "That's her mother in her," Fanny thought. One rainy autumn day Fanny entered her brother's apartment to find Otti resplendent in her Viennese nurse's costume.
Otti had brought with her from Vienna her native peasant costume. It is a costume seen daily in the Austrian capital, on the Ring, in the Stadt Park, wherever Viennese nurses convene with their small charges. To the American eye it is a musical comedy costume, picturesque, bouffant, amazing. Your Austrian takes it quite for granted.
As she sketched she talked, and as she talked she drew Theodore into the conversation, deftly, and just when he was needed. She gave them what they had come for a story. And a good one. She brought in Mizzi and Otti, for color, and she saw to it that they spelled those names as they should be spelled. She managed to gloss over the question of Olga. Ill. Detained. Last minute.
If a policeman asks you why you are dressed that way tell him it is the costume worn by nurses in Vienna. Give him your name. Tell him who your master is. If he doesn't speak German and he won't, in Chicago some one will translate for you." Not a Sunday paper in Chicago that did not carry a startling picture of the resplendent Otti and the dimpled and smiling Mizzi.
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