your smile," he half spoke, half sang.
"There's Egypt in your dreamy eyes," she quoted.
[ 2 ~ A ]
'That's a bold thing to tell a man," he said.
"No. I mean, that's the name of the song you started to
sing."
"We have our song, then," he said. "Will you pour the
tea?"
Thrilled, she filled his bowl and her own. "Sugar?" she
asked, arching her eyebrows as she had seen an actress,
Jerry Morley, do at the Lyceum in a play where Jerry had
poured tea.
He grinned. "No sugar."
"I don't take sugar, either," she said.
'Good. We have the same habits. She'll have no trouble
getting along."
"It's such good tea," He said.
"I don't l~now whether it's good or not. But it's
wonderful because we're drinking it together." After the
third bowlful, he sighed, leaned back and relaxed. "All we
need is a fire on the hearth and a cat purring on the rug.
Do you like cats, Margarct?"
"I don't know. I never had a cat."
"We'll have a cat, maybe two," he said. "You'll love them.''
Stle set her bowl down because her hands w ere
trembling. Now, she thought, he'll say, we'll have a cut
Chest we set up o'er ow
home after we nearby.
He said: "Ever see a Phalanx cat?
"What kind of cat is that?"
'They have no tails. ~l hey're verb colllnlon in
Scotland. Scotland! Have you ever been . . ."
"No," she interrupted. "I've never been to Scotland." He
laughed.
T he waiter brought the food. She stared adnniringly at
the nicely arranged, steaming mound on Claude's plate.
She said the obvious thing: "Ely, that looks good!"
Now! he wondered. Will she say I'll give you some of
mine arid you give me some of yours? He detested women
who wanted to share food in restaurants. He tried her out.
"HONV about I give you some of this and 70U give
me some of yours?"
"You can have SOII1C of mine," she said, "there's such
a lot of it. But I don't v,~ant any c hop sucy."
Perversely then, he ~ anted her to share his food.
"Please?" lie asked.
' 1 can't. Bet ause it's l? ridav."
1 /6 1
"What does Friday have to do . . ."
"I can't eat meat on Friday, especially Good Friday."
"And why not?"
"My religion . . ."
"Of course! How could I be so stupid? Please don't
hold it against me." He reached over and put his hand
on hers.
So he's not Catholic, sighed Maggie-Now to herself.
F:ven if he did want me, that's another thing religion in
the way.
'I d like to go to service with you," he said.
"Service? Oh, Mass. There's high Mass Sunday. Easter
high Mass is very beautiful. Even outsiders," she said
bravely, "think
so."
"I'll think so too, my little Chinee," he said. "I want to
share it with you. I want to share everything with you."
Again, he leaned across the table to put his hand on her
arm.
She saw the w alter coming with the dessert and, as
many women do, she changed the subject, feeling that talk
should be casual in the presence of a waiter.
"It's sprinkling outside," she said.
"An April shower," he said.
Dessert was two almond cookies each. 'Would it be all
right," she asked Claude, "if I took one home for my
brother?"
"Only if you false one of mine, too." She wrapped the
cookies in her clean handkerchief and put them in her
pocketbook.
"It's raining harder," he said.
"I like to walk in the rain," she said.
"We'll stay here and drink tea," he said. "And talk.
Maybe the rain will let up." He ordered another pot of
tea. "I have about two days left," he said, "and I'd like to
spend them with you. Could I spend tomorrow at- your
home?"
She looked so stricken his heart went out to her. He
knew she was thinking of her father. He made it a little
easier for her
"Could we aide out to the cemetery?"
"Cemetery?' She was astonished. "But why ....~"
"It sounded so wonderful when you told me how your
mother took you there and how you took your brother. .
. "
"Well, its not Decoration Day, but I guess we could go
just the same." He laughed. "Only, I'd have to take Denny
"
"i wouldn't think of going if he didn't come along," he said
1 '~ 7 ]
,allantly. Site gave hell her wide smile for that. i'And
tomorrow night?" he asked tentatively.
"Well, I alvays go to see Aunt Lottie Ott Easter eve,
To bring Laster baskets to the twins, but . . ."
"Would you," he said eagerly, "u ould yotl take me?"
"I u ould like to," she said.
I he rain continued. they were the only guests left in the
restaurant. The waiter started to mop the floor and they
left. They walked home in the rain. He put his arm
around her waist, holding her close to his side as they
walked, saying that one side of her' at least, wouldn't get
wet. She thought that was a very nice waN7
to Valk.
When she got home, L)enny was sitting on the floor
with a shiny, new humming top. "Why aren't you in bed,
Denny?" she asked with a frown. Denny and his father
exchanged understanding looks.
"He's still up because I asked kiln to keep me
cornpanv."
"~li7here'd you get that pretty top?" she asked.
'Papa bought it for n e. For Easter."
"Ah, Papa!" she said. She put her hand on his
shoulder in a gesture of affection.. She was pleased that
he'd been nice to Dennv and relieved that he hadn't
started the usual argument about her going out that
night.
"By the way," said Pat casually. "Don't count on me
for Easter dinner. I'm going to have Easter dinner with
me friend."
Maggie-Nov's heart Icaped a little. I call have (:laude
here far dialler, she told herself joyously.
"I hope vou won't mind," he said with stiff formality.
"Lao, Papa. I'm glad you have a friend," she said
sincerely.
j_ l (|
~: CHAPTER THIRTY ~
ON THE way to the cemetery, Claude didn't ask Denny
how old he was; what grade he was in; whether he liked
school and what he wanted to be when he got big stock
questions that adults usually ask children when they're
trying to get acquainted. He drew out Derllly about kite
making and he listened with sincere interest. He told
Denny how the Chinese made kites; the lacquered sticks
and the gold and silver paper and the symbols painted on
them; turquoise, jade green and Chinese red. And the kite
itself in the shape of a dragon, perhaps, and the tail,
intricat
ely made of twisted paper to look like a dragon's
tail. The trolley ride seemed all too short to Denny and to
Maggie-Now, too.
She bought a red geranium and the man said the price
had gone up. It was fifty cents now and he confided that
the price would go up to a dollar on Decoration Day. On
account of the war, he said.
Claude insisted on buying a hothouse hydrangea. It cost
a dollar and a half and Maggle-Now told him it was too
dear, but Claude said, since her mother had loved them
so, he wanted to plant one on her grave.
"Margaret," he said, as they walked through the
cemetery, "do you believe that when someone dies, he dies
altogether?"
"Yes," she said. "Except the soul."
"What is the soul?"
"What goes to heaven when you die," said Lenny.
"Brother Bernard said so."
"That's h;S catechism teacher," explained 1/laggie-Nov.
"What do you think the soul is, Margaret? "
"I suppose it's the something that stays or is after
someone dies. The soul of him is around. It's the kind of
stamp he made on
[~9]
whatever he did and thought anti the nay he lived; things
that sort of stay after he dies. And it is what goes to hea
en, too, like Denny said."
"Do you believe that a person eN or lived before in
another thlle, a htmdred or so years ago, mayl e'''
"Oh, no."
"Have you ever turn. d a corner h1 a strange
neigllborllood and come on a street that you'd never seen
before and had the feeling that you'd been there before?
In another lifer"
"No. I walk around only in my own nei;rllborhood and
I lKnoN all the streets anct they never are strange to me.
No, I never had that feeling."
"Some people believe,' he said, "that a person comes
back to live in some other form after death."
"I,ike what?" she asked.
"Like these hydrangeas: You told me yotlr mother loved
hydrangeas. Wouldn't it make you happy if yol. knew she
lived again as one of these plants?"
"I couldn't say," said llaggie-Now, disturbed and ill at
ease. "No. I wouldn't like it. ~ Otl wouldn't want to be a
flower, ``voulct you? "
"Not a flower. A bird."
"A bird?" blurted on; Lenny ill astonisllnlent.
was not to laugh.
"But why?" she asked.
"Because a bird is frte . . . free. I-le flies over the sea
and over the land."
"In winter," said Denny, "chippies come hi our ! a. d arid
Maggie-Now throws out bread crumbs for them."
"NO, not a sparrow; not a small bird. A great grav and
W trite sea gull. I saw some when I crossed over on the
Staten Island ferry some weeks ago. That kind of a bird,
Denny."
The talk was making Maggie-~Tow uneasy and
uncomfortable. She vitas relieved when Denny ran ahead
and shouted: "Here it is! I found the grave all by myself."
Claude read the graven names aloud. "Michael
~loriarity; a powerful name." He paused and breathed,
"Mary l`.ioore. The sound of it is like a sigh in the valley
on a gravy autumn day."
1 77~) 1
Maggie-Now's eyes misted over because she thought
that was such a beautiful thing to say. But Denny backed
off and looked at Claude witch suspicion. He liked Claude
when he talked about kites and things like that. But he
wasn't sure of liking him when he talked about being a
bird and how somebody's name sounded.
They had the traditional pot cheese and chives for lunch
and Denny had his usual hot dog and strawberry soda.
The waiter asked Claude wouldn't he like a glass of beer
with his pot cheese and Claude said, no, as if he were
astonished that anyone would ask him to drink beer. This
pleased Maggie-Now. She thought that, at least, he wasn't
a drinking man. She invited him to Sunday dinner at her
home. His acceptance was humbly grateful.
With flattering courtesy, he consulted Denny. "Is it all
right with you, Denny? "
"Sure," said Denny. Ele vitas so overwhelmed at being
asked that he forgot about Claude wanting to be a bird
when he was dead.
Going back in the trolley car, Maggie-Now told Claude
all about Mrs. Schondle. E le listened raptly and, when
she had finished, he pretended to be angry.
"Why didn't you tell me about her before?" he asked.
"Why did you hold it back?"
"I never thought about her until today," she said.
"Ships that pass in the night!" He savored the words.
"And Mrs. Schondle! What a wonderful name!"
"She gave me a penny once," said Denny. "Because I
said 'hello' to her."
They went up the stairs, Denny carrying the Easter
baskets for the twins. Maggie-NoNv tapped on Lottie's
door.
"Who is it?" called out Lottie.
"Me. Maggie-Now, and Denny."
"And a friend!" called out Claudc.
There was a living silence before I,ottie called out: "Just
a minute, please."
There were hurried thuinpings and bumpings behind the
closed door. Maggie-Nov knew that Lottie was furiously
straightening out the room for''compally.''
1 221 ]
"I guess [ should have dropped her a card," whispered
MaggieNONV. "But I thought she'd expect me. Denny
and I always come over Easter eve with the baskets."
A slightly disheveled Lottie opened the door cautiously,
stared frankly at Claude and said, '~Come in." She
embraced MaggieNow warmly, gave Demly a kiss on a
reluctantly offered cheer;, smiled at Claude and saicl: "I'm
their Aunt Lottie."
"Aunt I,ottie," said l laggie-Now, "let me introduce Sir.
Bassett."
Claude took Lottie's hand and bowed a little bit too
much over it. "This is a pleasure I've been looking forward
to for a long time," he said.
Maggie-Now was dismayed. Claude vvas using his
"educated' English and Maggie-Now knew that Lottie
would think he was putting on airs. She saw that Lottie,
expecting the traditional "Pleased to meet you," W.IS
taken aback by Claude's little speech.
Lottie replied with the traditional, "Likewise," and then
felt foolish because her reply didn't fit. She had not
looked forward to the pleasure of meeting him because
she hadn't even known he lived until a few moments ago.
"These are for the twins," said Demly, handing Lottie
the two baskets.
"What a shame," she said. "They're not here. Last mght,"
she explained to Maggie-NoNv, "on account of the w ar
starting, Gracie dreamed Widdy was killed on the
battleship and she said the children would be all she had
if Widdy died so she took them back." Courteously, she
in
cluded Claude in her explanation. "You see, Mr.
Bassett, Dcnny and my twin grandsons were born just a
few Steely apart."
itRcally?~, he said
She thought he sounded doubtful. She said, "Yes,"
emphatically.
"How's your mother?' asked Maggie-Now.
"Mama fell asleep while she was eating her supper so I
put her to bed. All she eats now is mashed potatoes and
a glass of port wine the doctor says she can have." She
turned to Claude. "ily mother is ninety-two, yo u know."
"Really?" he asked.
"Well, she is," said Loctie.
"Can I show him the album, Aunt Lottie?" asl~ed
Denny.
[ 222 1
"Sure, go ahead, Denny." Again she addressed Claude.
"Ilr.
Shawn, Timmy, my late husband . . ." she waited. Ile
waited,
knowing something was expected of him, but what?
"God rest his soul," said Maggie-Now.
". . . gave it to me," continued Lottie, "on our fifth
anniversary.
He wrote on the card: 'To my sweetheart.' He always
called me
sweetheart. "
"Is that so!" He opened the album and cocked his ear to
listen
to the tinkling music. "Why, this is charming," he said.
Lottie looked at him strangely. She turned to
Maggie-Nov.
"Come in the kitchen with me a minute. I want to show
you
something." To Claude, she said: "Excuse us?"
"Certainly." He stood up.
"Stay sitting," said Lottie.
Out in the kitchen, Lottie spoke in a tense, hurried
whisper.
"Who is he?"
"Claude Bass . . ."
"I know his name but who is he?"
"Someone I met last Monday."
"What does he dot"
"Oh, different things."
"What does he work at?"
"Different things."
"Where does he come from?''
"Different places."
"Wherein"
"I don't know, Aunt Lottie."
"Is he got parents?"
"I don't know. He never said and I never asked."
"He ain't Catholic."
"I never asked"
"I Pro. Because he didn't say, 'Rest his soul' when I men-
tioned Timmy's name. 1 ook! I'm your godmother and
it's my
place to see that you don't marry outside your religion."
"You don't like him, do you, Aunt Lottie?"
"No."
"Why?''
"Because he's not like Timmy. Oh, Maggie-Now, dear,"
said
Lottie, "what do you see in him?"
[ 223 ]
"I:verything. Like when he tall<s . . . the things he says
malice nZe feel like a princess."
'And the things Timmy did for me made me feel like a
queen. Like the way he'd lift my washboiler on the stove.
Your man would only look at it anti say, 'Interesting, ain't
its"'
"Oh, Aunt Lottie, if you knew hoNv much I loved hhn,
you wouldn't run him down so."
"Why do you love him?"
"Because he needs me so," said Maggie-Now.
"Famous last words," said Lottie cynically.
"The way Uncle Timmy needed you, Aunt 1,ottie."
"Timmy didn't need nobody,. I needed him."
Maggie-NoNv hung her head. She was saddened
because the godmother she loved didn't love the man she
loved. "He asked to :~TO to Mass with me tomorrow,"
she said hopefully.
"Sure! Sure! Them smooth talkers will do anything
before marriage and not}ling,T after. Well, I tell you this,
Ilaggie-Now, it's my place to see that you don't marry
him. And you won't marry him. I had my say, now, alla I
guess we better go back. He might think we're talking
about him."
As they came out of the kitchen, Lottie talked loudly
and brightly as though continuing the kitchen
conversation. "I just wanted you to look at it and tell me
if I paid too much for that wash wringer."
Claude was not foolec'. He stood at the mantelpiece,
holding the china pug dog With the china nursing
puppies, and looked at .Maggie-NoNv appealing!,`. Her
heart went out to him.
"My Timmy . . ." said Lottie. And waited.
"God rest his soul," said Maggie-Now, looking intently
at Claude and hoping he'd understand that he was