emotionally from her father's antagonism and her
brother's concern that she fell fast asleep in the middle
of severing all over again the thrill when he had tucked
her arm into his.
~ CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ~
THE next morning, when Maggie-Now went to the baker's
for the morning buns, the neighborhood seemed to be in
a state of excitement. Since President Wilson had
addressed Congress, wild rumors had been flying around.
Some said war had already been declared; others, that it
was merely a question of hours before it would be
declared. Some body said that Hamburg Avenue was
going to be renamed Wilson Avenue.
She passed some men waiting for a streetcar to take
them to work. One said his wife had kept him up half the
night urging him to change his name from Schmidt to
Smith. Mr. Schmidt told the others that the way he looked
at it he was an American citizen, no matter what his name
was, but his wife thought no one would give him a job
with a German name like that. Another man said that as
soon as the war started the bosses would get down on
their knees begging men to work no matter what their
names were.
Maggie-Now bought a morning paper. She set it next
her father's coffee cup and told him of the talk of war
being declared. He merely grunted and told her that just
the same he was going out that night; war or no war.
Maggie-Now spent the day in an ecstasy of preparation.
She pressed the last of her three dresses, a summery,
flowered print made like her other two. She got out her
last summer's white pumps and cleaned them. She bought
a cake of geranium-scented
[ ~99 ]
soap and washed her hair with it. She rinsed her hair in
lemon juice and water and sat out in the sun to dry it.
Later in the day, she took a bath with the scented soap.
She lathered and rinsed, lathered and rinsed until her skin
was almost stiff. She dried herself and dusted all over with
Mennen's Violet Baby Talcum Powder. She braided her
hair, pinned it up and buffed her fingernails.
When she had dressed, she went upstairs to see the
tenant about keeping an eye on Denny in case her father
carried through his threat to spend the evening with his
mythical (as MaggieNow firmly believed) woman friend.
There was an understanding that landlords did not make
friends with tenants, especially when both occupied the
same house. It was considered right that a tenant should
not be burdened with social obligations toward the
landlord. The tenant should be free to come and go. Also,
friendship would weaken the landlord's right to request
prompt payment of rent and his privilege of making it
uncomfortable for the tenant when he defaulted in paying
the rent.
Maggie-Now knew that by asking a favor of the tenant
she was giving up her right to dun Mrs. Heahly for last
month's unpaid rent. She was willing to risk this, however,
rather than possibly miss out on her evening with Claude.
Maggie-Now felt uncomfortable and turned her head
away when she saw the look of apprehension on Mrs.
Heahly's face.
"Come in," said Mrs. Heahly, not meaning it.
"For a moment," said Maggie-Now.
"Sit down?"
"No, thank you."
"Somebody looks very nice today," said Mrs. Heahly
with an ingratiating smile.
The poor thing's trying to get or my good sid e, thought
Maggie-Now. She sighed. It's hard to be a landlord.
"About being late with the rent," said Mrs. Heahly
brightly. "Never fear. You'll get it. My husband's working
steady now, but we had some extra expenses, and . . ."
"I didn't come about that. I came up to ask you for a
favor."
"Any time! Any time!" said Mrs. Heahly eagerly. "If I
can do anything for you . . ."
~ 200 1
"I'm going out tonight and my father might step out a
few minutes while I'm gone. If you could kind of keep an
eye on my brother . . .t'
"Glad to, Miss Moore. Glad to."
"You don't have to do anything. Just in case there's a
fire or he gets sick."
"Sure! Sure!" The woman's relief at not being dunned for
the rent was pathetically obvious.
Yet, after Maggie-Now left, Mrs. Heahly justified herself.
I don't mind her father getting it in the neck, the rip, telling
me to go soak my head the time I told him the toilet was out
of order. But it's a dirty trick to pull on the girl. She's halfway
nice. Mrs. Heahly sighed. Ah, well, you can't make a deposit
077 a new fat and pay rent on the old one at the same time.
By the time she had it all thought out, she was indignant.
She figured that the landlord owed her more than she
owed hirn.
Maggie-Now had supper ready ahead of time and, of
course, Pat took this special night to be late. Maggie-Now
was sure he was doing it on purpose because he knew she
was going out and he wanted to make her so nervous that
she wouldn't enjoy herself.
When he got home, however, she saw that he had a
reason for being late. He had been to the barber's for a
shave and haircut. He smelled of bay rum, hair tonic and
Danderine. Maggie-Now's heart sank.
He wasn't f ogling then, she thought, when he said he was
going out. She tossed her head. Well, I wasn't fooling either.
He smelled the soap and talcum powder and the scent
of lemon juice coming from her healthy hair. He noticed
that she was dressed with unusual care.
So, he thought, I can talk meself deef, dumb and blind
and she'll trot out all the same.
"We're getting in the war after all," he announced. He
went into the bathroom to wash his hands.
The bathroom was no more than a windowless closet.
The tub was a shallow scoop of white-painted tin enclosed
in an oblong box of zinc. Had it had a lid, it would have
looked like a coffin for a shrimp of a man. The closed
quarters smelled strongly of scented soap, talcum powder,
wet hair and wet towels. The
[ 201 ]
painted walls were still wet from steam. It was hardly the
place or setting for Sybaritic rites of the bath and the
voluptuous longings engendered thereby. But Pat feared
the worst.
He thought: She must be serious about the bastid whoever
he is. and she's out to get him. Then Vat's to become of me
in me old days, he worried, and her married and away and
one left to die alone in a furnished reborn?
As they sat down to supper, he said: "Who's been taking
a bath, now? "
"Me," said Maggie-Now.
He fixed her with his eye and spoke slowly with hidden
meaning: "Don't you think you're goin
g a little too
far taking a bath in the middle of the day?"
She saw Denny jerk his head to stare at her, "Eat," she
said. "The both of you, befort it gets cold."
They were eating in complete but scented silence when
a low voice came through the keyhole. "Are you all right
in there?" asked the voice. Denny looked scared and Pat
dropped his fork.
"That's only the lady upstairs minding Denny," she
whispered. She raised her voice. "Thank you, Mrs. Heahly,
but we're not gone yet," she said.
"Excuse me," breathed the voice.
So she fixed it! She fixed it so I got to go o?lt. But where,
Pat thought in despair, ala I going to go?
Maggie-Now bribed I jenny to help her wash the dishes
by giving him a nickel for a glass shooter. Pat went into
his room to change from uniform to Sunday suit.
Maggie-Now went into her room to primp a little. After
the dishes were done, Denny sat in the kitchen to do his
homework. It wasn't exactly homework there was no
school during Holy Week. It was "review work," one
crayon picture each night to keep the kids out of mischief.
llaggie-Now and her father came out of their rooms
simultaneously and went into the front room. I le sat at
one window, she at the other.
"We're getting in the war, now," he said.
"You said that before, Papa."
"Anything that important you can say twice."
"That's right," she agreed.
[ 202 1
He read his paper and she watched for Claude. She
started to get nervous. "Papa, if you're going out, go."
"When I get good and ready."
"Look, Papa. I asked the tenant the favor of keeping an
eye on Denny. That means I threw away my chance to
push her about the back rent. So, since it's going to cost,
take advantage. I want you to go out. I fixed it up."
Sure she wants me out, he thought, so's she can have him
in here. He said: "Don't you go putting me out of me own
home. First I want to see what kind of gink is coming for
you."
She had feared he had that in mind. He and Claude
couldn't meet. They just couldn't! Her father would insult
him and throw him out and she'd never see Claude again!
Now it was a quarter to eight. She was so nervous she had
to do something. She went out into the kitchen to talk to
Denny.
"Denny, if you feel like buying your marble now, I'll walk
The boy was willing. Pat was relieved when he saw them
leave the house together. Taking the boy with her, he
thought. I guess she can't be so serious about the man, then.
Anyways, there won't be no spooning. Not with a wet blanket
of a boy along.
He relaxed. He took off his pinching shoes and his
chafing celluloid collar and removed the brass collar
button that had already branded his Adam's apple with a
green circle. He unbuttoned his vest and put his feet up on
a chair.
~ man, he told himself, stretching luxuriously, is a fool
to go out sporting of a night when he's got a clean, decent
home to sit in. Ah, yes.
Then Dermy came back.
"Where's your sister?" asked Pat.
"Don' know."
"Did she go off with a man?"
"Don' know."
"What do you know, hah?"
"I know she went with me to buy my marble and then
she said I should go home because you ain't going out and
you would be lonesome."
"So I ain't going out, she thinks!"
He buttoned his vest and with many a sigh he put his
shoes back
~ 2 3 ]
on. The tarnishing collar button was put back into place
and the restricting collar and tie He went for his hat.
"I'm gonna be here alone," said Denny.
"I'll tend to that," said Pat. He went out into the hall
and bellowed up the stairs: ''Hey!"
Mrs. Heahly opened her door and hollered back down:
"Hay is for horses."
"Don't forget to mind me kid," he said, "like me
daughter told you."
"Mind your own kid,' she answered.
"Yeah? And you put that back rent in me hand first
thing in the morning."
"Yeah? And you go to hell," she said, and slammed her
door.
He walked down to the saloon feeling pleased with
himself. That'll learn her riot ta get srlotty with "TT]e, he
told himself smugly.
Denny wasn't afraid to stay in the house alone. He just
didn't like it. He went out and sat on the stoop. He told
himself that he wasn't lonesome, yet he wished some boy
would come along so they could talk about his new
marble. A woman came by and asked: "What class are you
in?"
"One B." he said.
"That's nice," she said and went on her way.
Denny was not an introspective child but he couldn't
help wondering why people always asked him what class
he was in, and his sister and father were always asking
him, how's school, and, did he do his homework Why did
people think he had no other life than school?
Gloomily, Pat watched the bartender shave the foam
from the small beer he'd ordered. With no preamble at
all, he started in on his troubles.
"You raise a kid. 170rli like a dog. Do without things
yourself to give her things. Then she gets big. And just
when she could be a help pay back the old man what
happens? She goes loony over the first gink what come.
her way."
"That's the way it goes," said the bartender, giving the
bar a ritual wipe.
"That all you got to say about it?" asked Pat.
[ 704 ]
"What do you want for a nickel beer?" said the
bartender. "The Gettysburg Address?"
"I had to earn that nickel for that beer, I'll have you
know," said Pat.
"Well, you better earn a dime for the same next week.
Maybe fifteen cents. Beer's going up now that we're
getting in the war."
"War or no war, sooner than pay fifteen cents, I'll go
without me beer," said Pat.
"You'll go without it pretty soon whether you want to or
not. This here prohibition is going through someday and
then, goodby, Charlie. '
The only other customer further down the bar now
entered the conversation. "It's a Goddamned shame," he
said. "That's all I got to say."
"Another county heard from," sneered Pat, and he tried
to wither him with a look. Rut the man was at the other
end of the bar and the saloon visas dimly lighted. In lieu
of the look, he raised hi, voice.
"Yeah, and I suppose you went down and enlisted today,
hey?"
"Met" called back the stranger. "Why I'm fifty-two if I'm
a day*!'
"Who asked you your age?" said Pat.
"Nobody."
"Wh
o you calling nobody? ' asked Pat, itching for a fight.
"Nobody. "
'Dry up, then," said Pat.
I feel I know him from someplace, brooded the stranger,
staring down into his beer.
Walking home, Pat had the same feeling. I ~nz~st-a
seen him someplace before, he thought. But where?
Denny saw his father turn the corner. He scuttled back
into the house and did his crayon work all over attain so
he wouldn't have to gfJ to bed right away.
Claude and Maggie-Now were walking arm in arm. "I'm
disappointed," he said. "I had hoped to meet your father."
"I thought it wasn't the right tine...."
"I see." He solulded offended.
[ -US ]
"I mean, he's not used to the idea that I . . . I . . ."
"That I ~ . . you and I . . ." He didn't finish because,
startlingly enough, she was blushing. "You haven't told me
much about your father, excepting that he vvas born in
lkilkenny."
"There's not much that I know about his childhood.
Anyhow, I talked too much last night."
"Oh, no! No, it was wonderful every word of it. I'd like
to hear it all over again. You see," he said simply, "I never
had a childhood with parents and a home and relatives
and stores to go to and penny candies and a sled in
winter. No, I never had the things you had."
"Please tell me how it vas," she said impulsively. "I'd
like to know more about you."
"There is nothing to sell nothing to know," he said
harshly.
"Excuse me," she said humbly.
His face cleared and he smiled. "Oh, someday, when
we're old Ed sitting by the fire and it's snowing outside,
I'll tell you everything."
"I will wait," she said shyly.
He looked at her strangely. After a hile he said: "In
the meantime, I'll take your c hildhood for my own and
your Brooklyn and all your friends, too, your brother,
your father, your Aunt I,ottie . . ." Suddenlv, he said:
"Take me to see her."
"She lives way over in East New York. Some night next
week . . . I'd have to send her a card first."
"I may not be here next week."
Her heart fell. He dian't mean If, she thought sadly,
about HIS getting old with each other. I must try izat to
believe everything he . . . anybody says.
"Maybe," she said tentatively, "you'd like to see the
house where my grandfather lived ~ here my mother
divas brought up?"
Enthusiastically, he told her that was exactly what he
wanted to do.
It hadn't changed much since Magerie-NoNv was a little
girl. The white swan, now grey from dust, still sat placidly
in the showcase. Claude visualised the house as it must
have been in the nineties. He admired the fine,
vrought-iron grillwork of the basement door and house
railing.
"Yes, like New Orleans homes," he said.
~ ~6 1
"Then you've been there, too," she murmured.
The stable plumbing shop was more up-to-date now.
Showcase windows hid the lines of the stable. A new auto
truck stood in the yard. The sign over the door, Pheid e)
Son. Plum/~ers. Day Cal Night, was now framed in
electric bulbs.
A young man came out of the store and walked toward
them. "That's 'And Son,' I believe," whispered Claude.
The young man smiled at Maggie-Now and said, "Yes?"
inquiringly, as his father had done twelve years ago.
Claude answered. To Maggie-Now's distress, he used his
acadenmic voice on the young man. "May we be permitted
to browse around? "
Young Pheid looked at him vith distaste. "HONPS that
again?" he asked.
"My grandparents . . . my mother used to live here,"
explained Maggie-No,~v.
"No kidding!" said young Pheid, smiling at her.
"My grandfather owned this property."
"Kolinski, the notary?"
"No. His name was Moriarity. Michael Moriarity."
"Hey, Pop," the young man called back to the store. "Did