Part 30 (1/2)
Mrs. Katzenstein's face was lyric and her voice furry with emotion. She hastened, her night-room slippers slouching off her feet, into the hall and unhooked the telephone receiver.
”Columbus 5-6-2-4,” she whispered, standing on her toes to reach the mouthpiece. ”Bamberger's apartment. Batta! h.e.l.lo, Batta! I know you ain't in bed yet, 'cause you got the poker crowd--not? Batta, I got news for you! Guess! Yes; it just happened--such a surprise, you can believe me! Grand! How happy we are you should know! I want they should start in one of those apartments like yours, Batta. Five rooms and a sleep-out porch is enough for a beginning. You can tell who you want--yes; I don't believe in secrets. Batta, who was the woman that embroidered those towels for your Miriam's trousseau? Yes; both of them gone now! Ain't that the way with raising children? But I wish every girl such a young man! Yes, just think, for a firm like Loeb Brothers--manager yet! Batta, come over the first thing in the morning. Now I got trousseau on my mind again, I think I go to the same woman for the table-linen. Good night.
She's in talking to her papa--she'll call you to-morrow. Thank you! Good night! Good-by!... Birdie,” she called, through the open doorway, ”Mrs.
Ginsburg's number is Plaza 8-5-7, ain't it? You think it too late to call her?”
”Yes, mamma, and, anyway, if Aunt Batta knows it that's enough--to-morrow everybody has it.”
”Yes,” said Mrs. Katzenstein, submissively; but after a moment she turned to the telephone again and unhooked the receiver. ”Plaza 8-5-7,”
she said, in m.u.f.fled tones.
The evening following, Mrs. Katzenstein greeted her prospective son-in-law with three kisses--one for each cheek and the third for the very center of his mouth. She batted at him playfully with her hand.
”You bad boy, you! What you mean by stealing away our baby? Papa, you come right in here and fight with him.”
”Mrs. Katzenstein, for you to give me a girl like Birdie, I don't deserve. She's the grandest girl in the world!”
”He asks me for my Birdie,” said Mr. Katzenstein, pumping the young man's arm up and down; ”but he asks me after it is all settled and everybody but me knows it--even in the factory to-day I hear about it.”
Laughter.
”What could we do, papa--wake you up last night?”
”He should pay your bills awhile, and then he won't feel so glad--ain't it, Birdie?” He pinched his daughter's cheek.
”Marcus took me to lunch at the Kaiserbrau to-day, papa. He's starting in to pay my bills already.”
”Have a cigar, Marcus!”
”Thanks, I don't smoke.”
”Well, Marcus, you got a fine girl; and you're a good boy, making good money.”
”I told your mamma to-day, Marcus; she got the best of it, and I got the best of it,” chuckled Mrs. Katzenstein.
Marcus regarded Birdie in some uneasiness, the color drained out of his face.
”Go on, Marcus,” she said, with a note of rea.s.surance in her voice.
”Everything as you say is grand and fine, Mr. Katzenstein, except--except--well, to-day at lunch I told Birdie some news I just heard, which--which maybe won't make you feel so good; I told her it wasn't too late if she wanted to change her mind about me.”
”_Ach!_” exclaimed Mrs. Katzenstein, clasping her hands quickly. ”Ain't everything all right?”
”What you mean, Marcus?” inquired Mr. Katzenstein, glancing up quickly.
”What's wrong? Ain't everything all right, children?”
”Aw, mamma, it ain't nothing wrong! Don't get so excited over everything.”