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He conducted her through East Side streets, where Jewish lovers parade past miles of push-carts and venerable Rabbis read the Talmud between sales of cotton socks, and showed her a little café which was a hang-out for thieves. She was excited by this contact with the underworld. He took her to a Lithuanian restaurant, on a street which was a débâcle.
It was another perfect day, a forenoon after Veronese, a day of which the charm was heightened by the witcheries that Harlem knows the shouted temptations of push-carts; the pastimes of children, so noisy, so dirty, so dear! the engaging conversation of German ladies; the ambient odour of cabbage and the household linen fluttering gaily on the roofs. It was rapturous.
Children screamed and darted out of the way, and men and women started back, scowling and muttering; when a blockade of wagons and push-carts forced them to stop, the children gathered about and jeered, and a group of hoodlums loafing by a saloon flung ribaldry at them; but Oliver never turned his eyes from the road ahead. And at last they were out on the bridge.
There were the Californian emigrant, and the Mormon with his wives and their push-carts, there were the trapper and the trader, and there were the bands of natives sometimes friendly, sometimes hovering about a caravan like a pack of hungry wolves.
In another Kindergarten we find the walls enlivened with Cecil Aldin's fascinating friezes: here is Noah with all the animals walking in cheerful procession, and in the next room is an attractive procession of children with push-carts, hoops and toy motor cars. When we make our visit the day is fine and the room is empty, the children are all outside.
You are interrupting the poesy. 'Who has drawn and quartered my play? Speak! 'I've only arranged it for the stage, said Kloot, unabashed. 'You! gasped the poet. 'You said I and you are the only two men who understand how to treat poesy. 'You understand push-carts, not poesy! hissed the poet. 'You conspire to keep me out of the theatre I will summons you! 'We had to keep all authors out.
Pauline's cab passed out of the central city into the region of factories. "This looks like the section where the print shops are in New York," she said confidently to herself. But the driver kept on into streets of dingy, ancient houses streets crowded with unkempt children and lined with push-carts. "Are you sure you got the right address of them publishers, Miss?" he asked after awhile.
A long, luxurious motor passed with a man and a woman in evening clothes half asleep in each other's arms. An old man with a huge pack of rags turned slowly and stared after them. The day's work was beginning. Peddlers trundled push-carts along, newspaper vendors opened their stands, milk wagons and trucks from the markets came by, some on the gallop. Our car had filled with people now.
Did I look from the smutted window at my side, it was into the struggling throng on the pavement below or, over the line of push-carts displaying tawdry wares, into the park where the riff-raff seemed to reign, because the riffraff was always there, dozing on the benches.
Along the curb a string of pedlers hawk penny toys in push-carts with noisy clamor, fearless for once of being moved on by the police. Christmas brings a two weeks' respite from persecution even to the friendless street-fakir. From the window of one brilliantly lighted store a bevy of mature dolls in dishabille stretch forth their arms appealingly to a troop of factory-hands passing by.
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