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Updated: August 2, 2024
'For a few dollars more or less I should make a Rudolph Pelz picture something I'm ashamed of. Am I right, Rosie? Am I right?" "I should say so, Roody, for a few dollars you should not belittle yourself." "Not if your old man knows it, by golly! and I think he does." "Hurry now, Roody; you know how Bleema likes it you should be dressed."
"Hello, moms!" in the little lifted voice trained to modulation, and kissing Mrs. Pelz in light consideration of powdered areas. "Hello, dads!" tiptoeing and pursing her mouth into a bud. "Good evening, Mr. Feist." "Looks like I'm the left-over in this party," said Mr. Feist, slow to release her hand and wanting not to redden.
"That's right you'll have her riding in a horseless carriage next!" "I tell you, it's a big idea!" "I wish we had ten cents for every big idea you've been struck with." "That's just why, Rosie, I'm going to hit one right." Mrs. Pelz withdrew then the slow hand from beneath the pillow and a small handkerchief with a small wad knotted into it. "Nearly every cent in the world, Roody, that we've got.
"I I guess I'm the old-fashioned kind of a fellow, Pelz, when it comes to girls. I I guess I do it the way they used to do it the parents first but but now that we we're on the subject I I like your daughter, Pelz my God! Pelz, but but I like your little daughter!" An Augsburg clock ticked into a suddenly shaped silence, Mr. Pelz rising, Mr. Feist already risen.
Rosa Sopinsky Pelz, on an evening when the air rose sultry, stale, and even garbage-laden from a cat-and-can-infested courtyard, flashed her quick smile toward that opening door, her week-old infant suckling at her breast. "You ought to seen, Roody; she laughed! Puckered herself up into the cutest little grin when mamma left just now." Mr.
He kissed her again so that her hat tilted backward, straining at its pins. "Hope to die and lose my luck." "My own preciousness!" she said, her eyes tear-glazed and yearning up into his. "'Sh-h, Pussy; here comes Sol Sopinsky to hurry me on board. Funny the Pelz crowd don't show up. Quit it! Here they come! That's their car. Cut it quick!"
Deliberately in range of that photograph, and so beatific of gaze that it was as if his sense were soaked in its loveliness, Mr. Feist smiled, and, smiling, reddened. Enter then Mrs. Pelz, hitting softly into white taffetas beneath the black lace; Mr. Pelz, wide, white and boiled of shirt-front. "Good evening, Mr. Feist! It's a shame the way we kept you waiting." "Not at all, Mrs. Pelz a pleasure.
Our daughter and a young man smart enough to make himself from a celluloid collar-cutter to a millionaire five times over on a little thing like inventing a newfangled film-substance should tie up with the only child of Rudolph Pelz, the picture king." "I give you my word, Rosie, such talk makes me sick." "You'd hate it, wouldn't you? A prince like David Feist."
If it is only to please them, wait those few weeks and do it more dignified. If it's got to be, then it's got to be. Am I right, Pelz?" Mr. Pelz turned away, nodding his head, but with lips too wry to speak. "O my God, yes! Mr. Feist, you're right. Bleema, promise us! Promise!" "Just a matter of a few weeks more or less, Miss Bleema. Just so your parents are satisfied you know your own mind."
"Oh, well if if you're going to be that mean oh, you make me so mad . Come on, Lester I I guess I can take you as far as the front door without the whole world jumping on me. Oh oh you make me so mad!" And pranced out on slim feet of high dudgeon. "Poor child!" said Mrs. Pelz, stirring into her coffee. "She's so high strung."
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