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He was to live in this heaven; he was going to be away from that Zapp woman; and Nelly Croubel Was she engaged to some man? he wondered. Mrs. Arty was saying: "First, I want to ask you some questions, though. Please sit down." As she creaked into one of the wicker chairs she suddenly changed from the cigarette-rolling chaffing card-player to a woman dignified, reserved, commanding. "Mr.
Perhaps Miss Theresa could be persuaded to go out to dinner with him some time. He begged: "Gee, I wish you'd let me take you up there some evening, Miss Zapp." "Now, didn't I tell you to call me `Miss Theresa'? Well, I suppose you just don't want to be friends with me. Nobody does." She brooded again. "Oh, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Honest I didn't.
Zapp was too conscientiously dolorous to be much cheered by the sympathy of a nigger-lovin' Yankee, who couldn't appreciate the subtle sorrows of a Zapp of Zapp's Bog, allied to all the First Families of Virginia. Mr. Wrenn did nothing more presumptuous than sit still, in the stuffy furniture-crowded basement room, which smelled of dead food and deader pride in a race that had never existed.
A Middle Western college fraternity has a club-house in the block, and four of the houses are private one of them belonging to a police inspector and one to a school principal who wears spats. It is a block that is satisfied with itself; as different from the Zapp district, where landladies in gingham run out to squabble with berry-venders, as the Zapp district is from the Ghetto. Mrs.
"I don't want to run you in, but I will if you don't get out of here and shut that door. Or you might go down and call the cop on this block. He'll run you in for breaking Code 2762 of the Penal Law! Trespass and flotsam that's what it is!" Uneasy, frightened, then horrified, Mrs. Zapp swung bulkily about and slammed the door. Sick, guilty, banished from home though he felt, Mr.
He was surveying the airless parlor rather heavily, and his curt manner was not pleasing to the head of the house of Zapp, who remarked, funereally: "It ain't taken just now, Mist' Wrenn, but Ah dunno. There was a gennulman a-looking at it just yesterday, and he said he'd be permanent if he came.
Muzzy and just drink a drop of coffee Ah must get insomina, but Ah don't see why anybody that tries to be a gennulman should have to go and bang the door and just rack mah nerves." He slunk up-stairs behind Mrs. Zapp's lumbering gloom. "There's something I wanted to tell you, Mrs. Zapp something that's happened to me. That's why I was out celebrating last evening and got in so late." Mr.
And please come down to see me the old place West Sixteenth Street." "What about the old girl with the ingrowing grouch? What's her name? She ain't stuck on me." "Mrs. Zapp? Oh hope she chokes. She can just kick all she wants to. I'm just going to have all the visitors I want to." "All right. Say, tell us something about your trip." "Oh, I had a great time. Lots of nice fellows on the cattle-boat.
Ah declare, Ah was saying to Lee Theresa just yest'day, Ah just knew you'd be wishing you was back with us. Won't you come in?" He edged into the parlor with, "How is the sciatica, Mrs. Zapp?" "Ah ain't feeling right smart." "My room occupied yet?"
In the kitchen was the noise of Goaty, ungovernable Goaty, aged eight, still snivelingly washing, though not cleaning, the incredible pile of dinner dishes. With a trail of hesitating remarks on the sadness of sciatica and windy evenings Mr. Wrenn sneaked forth from the august presence of Mrs. Zapp and mounted to paradise his third-floor-front.
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