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Updated: June 18, 2025
It makes me so happy, Alma, to think you won't have to hold him off any more." "I'll never leave you. Never!" Nevertheless, she was the first to drop off to sleep, pink there in the dark with the secret of her blushes. Then for Mrs. Samstag the travail set in.
Didn't that youngster go out to Dayton the other day and land a contract for the surgical fittings for a big new hospital out there before the local firms even rubbed the sleep out of their eyes? I have it from good authority, Friedlander & Sons doubled their excess-profits tax last year." A white flash of something that was almost fear seemed to strike Mrs. Samstag into a rigid pallor. "No! No!
If you're in for neuralgia, I'll fix the electric pad." Suddenly Mrs. Samstag shot out her arm, rather slim-looking in the invariable long sleeve she affected, drawing Alma back toward her by the ribbon sash of her pretty chiffon frock. "Alma, be good to mamma to-night! Sweetheart be good to her."
The permanent wave swept it like a tidal one. The beaded bag, cunningly contrived, needleful by needleful, from little colored strands of glass caviar, glittered its hour. Filet lace came then, sheerly, whole yokes of it for crepe de Chine nightgowns and dainty scalloped edges for camisoles. Mrs. Samstag made six of the nightgowns that winter, three for herself and three for her daughter.
If you want me, Louis, it's got to be with her too. I couldn't give up my baby not my baby." "Why, Carrie, have your baby to your heart's content. She's got to be a fine girl to have you for a mother and now it will be my duty to please her as a father. Carrie will you have me?" "Oh, Louis Loo!" "Carrie, my dear!" And so it was that Carrie Samstag and Louis Latz came into their betrothal.
None the less, it was with some misgivings and red lights burning high on her cheek-bones that Mrs. Samstag, at just after ten that evening, turned the knob of the door that entered into her little sitting-room, but in this case, a room redeemed by an upright piano with a green silk and gold-lace shaded floor lamp glowing by it.
"As if it hasn't been terrible enough that you should have to know. But it's over, Alma. Your bad times with me are finished. I'm cured." There were no words that Miss Samstag could force through the choke of her tears, so she sat cheek to her mother's cheek, the trembling she could no longer control racing through her like a chill. "Oh how I hope so!" "I know so."
It was finally after more tortuous saving of floor creaks and the interminable opening and closing of a door that Carrie Samstag, the beaded bag in her hand, found herself face to face with herself in the mirror of the bathroom medicine chest.
"Mother and daughter, but which is which from the back, some of my friends put it," said Mrs. Samstag, not without a curve to her voice, then hastily: "But the best child, Mr. Latz. The best that ever lived. A regular little mother to me in my spells." "Nice girl, Alma." "It snowed so the day of my husband's funeral. Why, do you know that up to then I never had an attack of neuralgia in my life.
If you're in for neuralgia, I'll fix the electric pad." Suddenly Mrs. Samstag shot out her arm, rather slim looking in the invariable long sleeve she affected, drawing Alma back toward her by the ribbon sash of her pretty chiffon frock. "Alma, be good to mama tonight! Sweetheart be good to her."
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