Part 12 (2/2)

”Your mamma's calling like she was mad, Abie.”

”To-night, Ruby, you come up to us for supper--we bring her a surprise-party.”

”Oh, you ain't going to tell her to-night--right away--are you?”

”For what I have secrets from my own mother? She should know the good news. Get your hat, Ruby. Come on, Ruby-la! Come on!”

”Oh, Abie, you ain't going to forget to lock the front store door, are you?”

”_Ach!_--that should happen to me yet. The things a man don't do when he's engaged! If mamma should know I forget to lock the store she'd think I've gone crazy with being in love--you little Ruby-la!”

Mr. Ginsburg hastened to the front of the store on feet that bounded off the floor like rubber b.a.l.l.s, and switched on the electric show-window display.

”Abe, you got the double switch on! What you think this is--convention or Christmas week?”

”To-night we celebrate with double window lights. What's the difference if it costs a little more or a little less? The night he gets engaged a fellow should afford what he wants.”

”Abe!”

”There now--with two locks on the door we should worry about burglars!

I'm the burglar that's stealing the ruby, ain't I?... One, two, three--up we go, to mamma and supper. Watch out for the step there! I want her to see my Ruby--finer than you can buy in the finest jewelry store!” cried Mr. Ginsburg, clinging proudly to his metaphor.

Any of three emotions were crowded into his voice--excitement, trepidation, the love that is beyond understanding--or the trilogy of them all.

”Come along, Ruby-la!”

Through the rear of the store and up a winding back stairway they marched like glorified children; and at the first landing he must pause and kiss away the words of fear and nervousness from her lips and look into her diffident eyes with the same rapture that was Jupiter's when he gazed on Antiope.

”Such a little scarey she is--like mamma was going to bite!”

At the top of the flight the door of the apartment stood open; a blob of gas lighted a yellowish way to the kitchen, and through the yellow Mrs.

Ginsburg's voice drifted out to them:

”Once more I call you, Abie, and then I dish up supper and eat alone--no consideration that boy has got for his mother! He should know what it is not to have a mother who fixes him _Pfannkuchen_ in this heat! Don't complain to me if everything is not fit to eat! In the heat I stand and cook, and that boy closes so late--Abie! Once more I call you and then I dish up. Ab-ie!” Mrs. Ginsburg's voice rose to an acidulated high C.

”Mamma! Mamma, don't get so excited--it ain't late. The days get shorter, that's all. Look! I brought company for supper. We don't stand on no ceremony. Come right in the kitchen, Ruby.”

Mr. Ginsburg pushed Miss Cohn into the room before him, and Mrs.

Ginsburg raised her face from over the steaming stove-top--the pink of heat and exertion high in her cheek. Reflexly her hand clutched at the collar of her black wrapper, where it fell away to reveal the line where the double scallop of her chin met the high swell of her bosom.

”Miss Cohn! Miss Cohn!”

”How do you do, Mrs. Ginsburg? I--”

”Sit right down, Miss Cohn--or you and Abie go in the front room till I dish up. You must excuse me the way I holler, but so mad that boy makes me. Just like his poor papa, he makes a long face if his supper is cold, but not once does he come up on time.”

”All men are alike, Mrs. Ginsburg--that's what they say about 'em anyway.”

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