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Updated: May 25, 2025
At nine o'clock Arthur's head ached. He had smoked all his Turkish cigarettes, the odour of which caused some surprise there was a capitalist present and they knew him. Only Yetta prevented disagreeable comment. The men, who belonged to the proletarian class, were poorly dressed and intelligent; the women wore shawls on their heads and smoked bad cigarettes.
"She was straying around the Bowery and she gave us a great game of talk about her father bein' a bird. I guess he is." "My papa und birds is on the country. I likes I shall go there," said Yetta from the depths of her mother's embrace. "There, that's what she tells everyone. She has a card there with a Christian name and no address on it.
A teacher's standing on the books of the Board of Education depends to a degree upon the punctuality and regularity of attendance to which she can inspire her class, and Yetta was reducing the average to untold depths. "What happened to-day?" Teacher asked one morning for the third time in one week, and through Yetta's noisy repentance she heard hints of "store" and "mamma."
Still, the "cop mit buttons und clubs" did not appear, though Yetta lived in constant terror and expected that every opening of the door would disclose that dread avenger.
I don't need 'em all." "I likes I shall have one now," ventured Yetta, and Nathan ensnared one and put it in her hand where it "crawlied" most pleasingly until Morris Mogilewsky begged it for his Gold-Fish in their gleaming "fish theaytre." Then Eva shared with her friend and protege the delight of sharpening countless blunted and bitten pencils upon a piece of sand-paper.
No, Arthur I am fond of you, perhaps " she paused, "so fond that I might enter into any relation but marriage, that never!" "And I tell you, Yetta, anarchy or no anarchy, I could never respect the woman if she were not mine legally. In America we do these things differently " he was not allowed to finish. She glared at him, then she strode to the shop door and opened it. "Farewell to you, Mr.
The saloon did not smell nice, Arthur thought. He had offered Yetta one of his imported cigarettes, but she lighted a horrible weed and blew the smoke in his face. At ten o'clock he wished himself away. But a short, stout man with a lopsided face showing through his tangled beard, stood up and said in German: "All who are not our friends, please leave the house." No one stirred.
Oh, that Yetta would certainly be found bone clear to the centre if her skull was ever drilled the same stuff they slaughter the poor elephants for over in Africa going so far away, with Yetta right there to their hands, as you might say. And I'm getting sicker and sicker! I'd have retained my calm mind, mind you, if they had been my own kids but kids of others I'd been sacredly trusted with!
Yetta's one-roomed home was on the top floor, the sixth, and the only water supply was in the yard. Since the day her father had packed "assorted notions" into a black and shiny box and had set out to seek his very elusive fortunes in the country, Yetta had toiled three times a morning with a tin pail full of water. This formed the family's daily store and there was no surplus to be squandered.
Yetta Sigurdin, an Austrian girl nineteen years old, had been in New York three years, and in the last year and a half had been employed in a tobacco factory, a Union shop, as a skilled roller, on piece-work. Her hours were eight a day. In a full day, Yetta could roll 2200 cigarettes. So her best wage was about $12 a week.
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