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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Oh, Mama," expostulated the other between breaths as she toiled to that last floor, "how I wish you should come to live with Jake and me!" Mrs. Reisenberger was excitement enough for one day. But on the day following nothing happened, nor on the day after that. And gradually Johnnie's hope began to lessen, his faith to ooze.
"Eva," she beamed, "from long you have hear Mama speakink over Chonnie Schmitt. Und here wass!" Fortunately Johnnie's right hand was clean. So was his smiling face. "Oh, Mrs. Reisenberger, I thank you for the tel'phone-d'rect'ry," he began gratefully, as the two shook hands. Mrs. Reisenberger was staring at his rags. Also, she was now holding the baby well up and back.
Poor Mrs. Kukor! Poor daughter Rebecca! Poor baby, whose mamma had a "bad sicknus!" And, yes, poor husband, Mr. Reisenberger! even though he was "awful rich." The broom had swept from under the stove those lengths of clothesline.
"I'll bet there ain't any room that's nicer'n this in the whole Waldorf 'Storia!" he vowed to the little Jewish lady when she came rocking down to marvel over the transformation, hands uplifted, head wagging. "Don't you think it's fine, Mrs. Kukor? and don't it smell 'zac'ly like Mrs. Reisenberger?" "Pos-i-tivvle!" agreed Mrs. Kukor.
Reisenberger's skirt between a thumb and finger, "Look, Chonnie! All from silks!" Then she led the way higher, while heads popped out of doors all up and down the house; and Mrs. Reisenberger puffed after her, like some sort of a sweet-smelling, red-and-white engine.
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