Part 2

On the echo of the slamming door, her eyes shining with conviction and her face suddenly old with prophecy, Miriam turned upon her mother.

"You see, mamma, you see! Seventeen, and nothing in her head but Brighton Beach and soda-water fountains and joy-riding. Just you watch; some day she'll meet up with some dinky fakir or ribbon clerk at one of those places, and the first thing you know for a son-in-law you'll have a crook."

"Miriam!"

"Yes, you will! Those are the only chances a girl gets if she's not in the swim."

"Listen to her, ma, and then you blame me for not bringing any of the fellows round here for her to meet. You don't catch me doing it, the way she thinks she's better than they are and gives them the high hand. Not muchy!"

"I should worry for the kind you bring, Izzy."

"As nice boys Izzy has brought home, Miriam, as ever in my life I would want to meet."

"Yes, but you see for yourself the way the society fellows, like Sol Blumenthal and Laz Herzog, hang round the Lillianthal girls. I always got to take a back seat, and maybe you think I don't know it."

"I never heard that on ships young men was so plentiful."

"She wants to land an Italian count and she'll just about land a barber."

Mr. Binswanger peered suddenly over the rim of his paper. "A no-count yet is what we need in the family. Get right away such ideas out your head. All my life I 'ain't worked so hard to spend my money on the old country. In America I made it and in America I spend it. Now just stop it, right away, too."

"Go to it, pa!"

Suddenly Miss Binswanger let fall her head into her cupped hands. Tears trickled through. "I--I just wish that I--I hadn't been born! Why--did you move up-town, then, where everybody does things, if--if--"

Her father's reply came in a sudden avalanche. "For why? Because then, just like now, you nagged me. You can take it from me, just so happy as now was me and mamma down by Rivington Street. I'm a plain man and with no time for nonsense. I tell you the shirtwaist business 'ain't been so good that--"

"You--you can't fool me with that poor talk, papa. Everybody knows you get a bigger business each year. You can't fool me that way."

Tears burst and flowed over her words, and her head burrowed deeper. Across her prostrate form Simon Binswanger nodded to his wife in rising perplexity.

"Fine come-off, eh, Carrie?"

"Miriam, ach, Miriam, come here to mamma."

"Aw, take her, pa, if she's so crazy to go. It'll be slack time between now and when I get back from my territory. Max has got pretty good run of the office these days. Take her across, pa, and get it out of her system. Quit your crying, kid."

Mr. Binswanger waggled a crooked finger in close proximity to his son's face. "Du! Du mit a big mouth! Is it because you sell for the house such big bills I can afford to run me all over Europe! A few more accounts like Einstein from Cleveland you can sell for me, and then we can go bankrupt easier as to Europe. Du mit a big mouth!"

"Pa, ain't you ever going to get that out of your system? My first bad account and--"

"You'm a dude! That's all I know, you'm a dude! Right on my back now I got on your old shirts and dressed like a king I feel."

"I'm done, pa! I'm done!"

"Ach, Miriam, don't cry so. Here, look up at mamma. Maybe, Miriam, if you ask your papa once more he will--"

"I tell you, no. What Mark Lillianthal does and what my son can say so easy makes nothing with me. I'm glad as I got a home to stay in."

Above her daughter's bowed head Mrs. Binswanger regarded her husband through watery eyes. "She ain't so wrong, Simon. I tell you I got the first time to hear you come out and say to your family, 'Well, this year we do something big.' The bigger you get in business the littler on the outside you get, Simon. Always you been the last to do things."

"And, papa, everybody--"

"Everybody makes no difference with me. I don't work for the steamship company. For two thousand dollars what such a trip costs I can do better as Europe."

"I--I just wish I hadn't ever been born."

A sudden tear found its way down Mrs. Binswanger's billowy cheek. "You hear, Simon, your own daughter has to wish she had never got born."

She drew her daughter upward to her wide bosom, and through the loose basque percolated the warm tears.

"'Sh-h-h-h, Miriam, don't you cry."

"Ach, now, Carrie--"

"I tell you, Simon, I 'ain't been a wife that has made such demands on you, but I guess you think it's a comfort that a mother should hear that in society her daughter has to take a back seat."

"When she 'ain't got a front seat she should take a second seat. I don't need no seat. I know worse young men as Sollie Spitz and Eddie Greenbaum what comes here to see her."

"Just the same you--you said to me the other night, papa, that I never seem to meet young men like Adolph Gans, fellows who are in business for themselves."

"Ja, but I--"

"Well, where do you think Elsa Bergenthal met Adolph, but on the ship?"

"You hear, Simon: Moe Bergenthal, who sells shirtwaists for you right this minute, can afford to send his daughter to Europe."

"Ja, I guess that's why he sells shirtwaists for me instead of for himself."

"See, papa, she--"

"That's right, get him cornered, ma! Go to it, Miriam!"

"Du, du good-for-nothings dude, du!"

"Be a sport, pa!"

"Ach, Simon--"

"Ach, you women make me sick! In the old country, I tell you, I got no business. All the Eyetalians what I want to see I can see down on Cherry Street--for less as two thousand dollar too."

"Why--why, that's no way to learn about 'em, papa. You just ought to see me take a back seat when Lilly Lillianthal gets out her post-cards and begins telling about the real ones."

Mrs. Binswanger took on a private tone, peering close into her husband's face. "You hear that, Simon? Mark Lillianthal, what failed regular like clockwork before he moved up-town, his daughter can make our Miriam feel small. You hear that, Simon?"

His daughter's arms were soft about his neck, tight, tighter. "Papa, please! For a couple of thousand we can take that beau-tiful trip I showed you in the booklet. Card-rooms on the steamer, papa. Hannah told me all summer her father played pinochle in Germany, father, right outdoors where they drink beer and eat rye-bread sandwiches all day. In Germany we can even stop at Dusseldorf where you were born, papa--just think, papa, where you were born! In Italy we can make Ray look at the pictures and statues, and all day you can sit outdoors and--and play cards, papa. Just think, papa, by the time you have to buy us swell clothes for Arverne I tell you it will cost you more. All Lilly Lillianthal needed for Europe, mamma, was a new blue suit."

"Go way--go way with such nonsense, I tell you!" "And how you and papa can rest up, mamma." "She's right, Simon; such a trip won't hurt us. I tell you we don't get younger each day."

He regarded his wife with eyes rolled backward. "That's what I need yet, Carrie, all of a sudden you take sides away from me. Always round your little finger your children could always wind themselves."

"Na, Simon, when I see a thing I see it. With Izzy out on his trip these next two months it won't hurt us. So crazy for Europe you know I ain't, but when you got children you got to make sacrifice for them."

"I--"

"For ten weeks, Simon, you can stand it, and me too."

"I--"

"For ten weeks, Simon, if we go on that boat she wants that sails away on June twentieth--it's a fine boat, she says."

"June twentieth I don't go. July twentieth I got to be back when my men go out on the road--"

"Then shoot 'em over this month, pa. Max can--"

"There's a boat two weeks from to-day, pa, see here in the booklet, the same boat, the _Roumania,_ only on this month's sailing. We can get ready easy, papa, we--oh, we can get ready easy."

"Ach, Miriam, in two weeks how can we get together our things for a trip like that?"

"Easy, mamma, I tell you I--I'll do all the shopping and packing and everything."

"'Sh-h-h-h, I 'ain't promised yet. I tell you if anybody would tell me two days ago to Europe I got to go this month, right away I wouldn't have believed 'em!"

"Ach, Simon, you think yet it's a pleasure for me? You think for me it's a pleasure to shut up my flat and leave it for two months? You think it's easy to leave Izzy, even when he's 'way out West on his trip? You think it's easy to leave that boy with the whole ocean between?"

"Aw, ma, cut the comedy!"

"Ten times, Simon, I rather stay right here in my flat, but--"

"Then right away on the whole thing I put down my foot."

"Papa!"

"No, no, Simon, I want we should go. Girls nowadays, Simon, got to be smart--not in the kitchen, but in the head."

"Be a sport, pa."

"It's enough I got a son what's a sport."

"Only a little over two months, papa. Two weeks from to-day we can get a

## booking. To-morrow I'll go down to the steamship offices and fix it all

up; I know all about it, papa; there isn't a booklet I haven't read."

"Na, na, I--"

"Simon, in all your life not one thing have you refused me. In all my life, Simon, have I made on you one demand? Answer me, Simon, eh? Answer your wife." She placed her thimbled hand across his knee, peering through dim eyes up into his face. "Eh, Simon, in thirty years?"

"Carrie-sha! Carrie-sha!" He smiled at her through eyes dimmer still, then rose, waggling the bent forefinger. "But not one day over ten weeks, so help me!"

"Papa!"

With a cry that broke on its highest note Miss Binswanger sprang to her feet, her arms clasping about her father's neck.

"Oh, papa! Papa! Mamma!"

"'Sh-h-h-h! the door-bell! Go to the door, Izzy; I guess maybe that's Ray back or your friend. Ach, such excitement! Already I feel like we're on the boat."

"Oh, mamma, mamma!" Her words came too rapidly for coherence and her heart would dance against her breast. "I--I'm just as happy!" Kissing her mother once on each eye, she danced across to her brother, tagging him playfully. "Lazy! I'll go to the door. Lazy! Lazy! Tra-la-la, tra-la-la!" and danced to the door, flinging it wide.

Enter Mr. Irving Shapiro, his soft campus hat pressed against his striped waistcoat in a slight bow, and a row of even teeth flashed beneath a neat hedge of mustache.

"Mr. Izzy Binswanger live here?"

"Hello, Irv! That you? Come in!"

She dropped a courtesy. "That sounds like he lives here, don't it? That's him calling."

And because her new exuberance sent the blood fizzing through her veins with the bite and sparkle of Vichy, a smile danced across her face, now in her eyes, now quick upon her lips.

"Come right in the dining-room, Mr.--Mr.--"

"Shapiro."

"--Shapiro; he's expecting you." She drew back the portières, quirking her head as he passed through. Isadore Binswanger rose from his couch, pressing his friend's hand and passing him round the little circle.

"Pa, meet Irving Shapiro, city man for the Empire Waist Company. Irv, meet my father and mother and my sister."

A round of handshaking.

"We're as excited as a barnyard round here, Irv; the governor and the family just decided to light out for Europe for two months."

"Europe!"

"Ja, my children they drag a old man like me where they want."

Mrs. Binswanger leaned forward smiling in her chair. "You see, we want papa should have a good rest, Mr. Shapiro. You know yourself I guess shirtwaists ain't no easy business. We don't know yet if we can get berths on the twentieth this month, but--"

"State-rooms, mamma."

"State-rooms, then. What's that boat we sail on, Miriam?"

"_Roumania_, mamma."

Mr. Shapiro sat suddenly forward in his chair, his eager face thrust forward. "Say, I'm your man!"

"You!"

"Before you get your reservations let me steer you. I got a cousin works down at the White Flag offices--Harry Mansbach. He'll fix you up if there ain't a room left on the boat. He's the greatest little fixer you ever seen."

"Ach, Mr. Shapiro, how grand! To-morrow, Miriam, maybe when you get the berths--"

"State-rooms, mamma."

"State-rooms, maybe Mr. Shapiro will--will go mit."

"Aw, mamma, he--"

"Will I! Well, I guess!"

Across the table their eyes met and held.

* * * * *

Even into the granite cañon of lower Broadway spring can find a way. In the fifty-first story of the latest triumph in skyscraping a six-dollar-a-week stenographer filled her drinking-tumbler with water and placed it, with two pansies floating atop, beside her typewriting machine. In Wall Street an apple-woman with the most ancient face in the world leaned out of her doorway with a new offering, forced but firm strawberries that caught a backward glance from the passing tide of finders and keepers, losers and weepers. Two sparrows hopped in and out among the stone gargoyles of a municipal building. A dray-driver cursed at the snarl of traffic and flecked the first sweat from his horse's flanks. A gaily striped awning drooped across the front of the White Flag steamship offices, and out from its entrance, spring in her face, emerged Miss Miriam Binswanger; at her shoulder Irving Shapiro attended.

"Honest, Mr. Shapiro, I--I just don't know what I would have done except for you."

"I told you Harry Mansbach would fix you up."

She clasped her wrist-bag carefully over the bulk of a thick envelope and turned her shining face full upon him.

"On deck A, too, right with the best!"

He steered her by a light pressure of her arm into the up-town flux of the sidewalk. "If I was a right smart kind of a fellow I never would have helped you to get those cabins."

"Oh, Mr. Shapiro!"

"But that's me every time, always working against myself."

"Well, of all the nerve!" And her voice would belie that she knew his delicate portent.

"If not for me, maybe you couldn't have gotten those reservations and you would have to stay at home. That's where I would come in, see?"

"Well, of all things!"

"But that's me every time. Meet a girl one day, take a fancy to her, and off she sails for Europe the next."

"Honest, Mr. Shapiro, you're just the limit!" She would have no more hold of his arm, but at the next Subway hood paused in the act of descending and held out her hand. "I'm just so much obliged, Mr. Shapiro."

He removed his hat, standing there holding it in the crook of his arm, the bright sunlight on his wavy hair. "Aw, now, Miss Binswanger, is this the way to leave a fellow?"

"Sure, it is! Anyways, don't you have to go to work?"

"I should let my work interfere with my pleasure! Anyway, that's the beauty of my line--I work when I please, not when my boss pleases."

"I got to go shopping and straight home, Mr. Shapiro. Just think, two weeks from yesterday we sail, and we got enough sewing and packing to be done at our house to keep a whole regiment busy."

He withdrew her from the tangle of pedestrians and into the entrance of a corner candy-shop. "Aw, now, what's your hurry?" he insisted, regarding her with smiling, invitational eyes.

"Well, of all the nerve!" She would not meet his gaze, and swung her little leather wrist-bag back and forward by its strap.

"I dare you to get on the Elevated with me and ride out with me to Bronx Park for a sniff of the country."

"I should say not! I got to go buy a steamer-trunk and a whole list of things mamma gave me and then hurry home and help. Maybe--maybe some other day."

"Aw, have a heart, Miss Miriam! To-morrow I've got to go over to Newark to sell a bill of goods. Maybe some other day will never come. Feel how grand it is out. Just half a day. Come!"

She was full of small emphasis and with no yielding note in her voice. "No, no, I can't go."

"Just a little while, Miss Miriam. All those things will keep until to-morrow. I can get you a steamer-trunk wholesale, anyway. Look, it's nearly two o'clock already! Come on and be game! Think of it--out in the park a day like this! Grass growing, birds singing, and the zoo and all. Aw, be game, Miss Miriam!"

"If I thought Ray would help mamma; but she's got a grouch on and--"

"Sure she will! Gee! what's the fun meeting a girl you think you're going to like if she won't do one little thing for a fellow! You bet it ain't every girl I'd beg like this. Whoops, I could just rip things open to-day!" It was as if he felt his life in every limb. "Come on, Miss Miriam, be a sport! Come on!"

"I--I oughtn't to."

"That's what makes it all the more fun."

Her eyes were so dark, so like pools! They met his with a smile clear through to their depths. "Well, maybe, but--but just for a little while."

"Just a little while."

"I--I oughtn't."

"You ought."

"Well, just this once."

"Sure, just this once." He linked his arm in hers.

"I--I--"

"Gee!" he said, "you're a girl after my own heart!"

On the Elevated train the windows were lowered to the first inrush of spring, and when they left the city behind them came the first green smells of open field and bursting bud.

"Now are you sorry you came, little Miss Miriam?"

She bared her head to the rush of breeze and he held her hat on his lap. "Well, I should say not!"

"No crowds, just everything to ourselves."

"M-m-m-m! Smells like lilacs."

"We'll pick some."

"I--I ought to be home."

"Forget it!"

"Now, Mr. Shap-iro!" But her eyes continued to laugh and the straight line of her mouth would quiver.

"Some eyes you've got, girlie! Some great big eyes! They nearly bowled me over when you opened the door for me last night. Let me see your eyes--what color are they, anyway?"

"Green."

They laughed without rhyme and without reason, and as if their hearts were distilling joy. Then for a time they rode without speech and with only the wind in their ears, and he watched the tendrils of her hair blowing this way and that.

"Just think," she said, finally, "we land in Naples just four weeks from to-day!"

"Hope the boat don't sail."

"You don't."

"Do!"

"If you aren't just the limit!"

"What'll I be doing while you're gallivanting round the country with some Italian count?"

"I should worry."

"I better put a bee in Izzy's ear, and maybe he'll put another in your father's, and the old gentleman will change his mind and won't go."

"Yes--he--will--not! When papa promises he sticks."

"Well, you don't know the nervy things I can do if I want. Nerve is my middle name."

"You sure are some nervy."

"'Cheer up!' I always say to myself when a firm closes the front door on me: 'Cheer up; there's always the back door and the fire-escape left.' That's how I made my rep in shirtwaists--on nerve." He inclined to her slightly across the car-seat. "You wouldn't close the front door on me, would you, Miss Miriam?"

"Look, we get off here!"

"Would you?"

"N-no, silly."

Within the park new grass was soft as plush under their feet, and once away from the winding asphalt of the main driveway the bosky heart of a dell closed them in, and the green was suddenly dappled with shadow. Here and there in the cool, damp spots violets lifted their heads and pale wood-anemones, spring's firstlings. They sat on a rock spread first with newspaper. Over their heads birds twitted.

"Somehow, here so far away and all I--I just can't get it in my head that I'm really going."

"I can't, neither."

"Naples--just think!"

"Ain't it funny, Miss Miriam, but with some girls when you meet them it's just like you had known them for always, and then again with others somehow a fellow never gets anywheres."

"That's the way with me. I take a fancy to a person or I don't."

"That's me every time. Once let me get to liking a person, and good night!"

"Me, too."

"Now take you, Miss Miriam. From the very minute last night when you opened that door for me, with your cheeks so pink and your eyes so big and bright, something just went--well, something just went sort of lickety-clap inside of me. You seen for yourself how I wanted to back out of going to the show with Izz?"

"Yes."

"It--it ain't many girls I'd want to stay home from a show for."

"Say, just listen to the birds. If I could trill like that I wouldn't have to take any lessons in Paris."

"You sing, Miss Miriam?"

"Oh, a little."

"Gee! you are a girl after my own heart! There's nothing gets me like a little girl with a voice."

"My teacher says I'm a dramatic soprano."

"When you going to sing for me, eh?"

"I'll sing for you some time alrighty."

"Soon?"

"Yes."

"How soon?"

"Maybe after--after I've had some lessons in Paris."

He was suddenly grave. "Aw, there you go on that old trip again! Gee! I wish I could grab that bag out of your hand and throw it with tickets and all in the lake!"

"You know with me it's right funny too. The minute I get something I want, then I don't want it any more. Before papa said yes I was so crazy to go, and now that I got the tickets bought I'm not so anxious at all."

"Then don't go, Miss Miriam."

She withdrew her hand and danced to her feet, her incertitude vanishing like a candle flame blown out. "Look over there, will you--a redbird!"

"If it ain't!" and he followed her quickly, high-stepping between violet patches.

"Honest, it's hard to walk, the violets are so thick."

"Here, let me pick you a bunch of them to take home, Miss Miriam. Say, ain't they beauties! Look, great big purple ones, and black and soft-looking toward the middle just like your eyes. Look what beauties--they'll keep a long time when you get home, if you wrap them in wet tissue-paper."

They fell to plucking, now here, now there.

The sun had got low when they retraced their steps to the train, and the chill of evening long since had set in.

"You--you ought to told me it was so late."

"I didn't know it myself, Miss Miriam."

"Let's hurry. Mamma won't know where--how--"

"We'll make it back in thirty minutes."

"Let's run for that train."

"Give me your hand."