Part 30 (1/2)
And there'd be some swearing in the last line. If you want to get anything over you've got to drop the poetry business. It isn't real like a play. Will you go with me to a play next week?”
”Thank you ever so much, but----”
”Oh, drop the 'but.' I'll get the tickets Monday. We'll go to something jolly.”
”I shouldn't enjoy it as much as this. This is the most beautiful, the most wonderful thing, I've ever seen.”
d.i.c.k flushed with pleasure and settled in his seat as the curtain rose upon the last act.
Even he was moved by the _Miserere_, and when the dungeon scene was reached he whispered, ”Golly, I like that, I've heard it on the hand-organs. I never guessed though that it was about the mountains.” He started to hum it but Hertha gently silenced him, and he was quiet and attentive until the curtain went down.
”Your first opera, young man?” said the middle-aged gentleman from behind, whom Hertha had noticed smiling at them.
d.i.c.k was helping her with her coat, and he answered as he pulled up her collar, ”Right you are! I'm just that much of a jay.”
”Come again,” the man said cordially as though the place belonged to him.
Hertha started to express her grat.i.tude as they stood outside her door but d.i.c.k waved it away. ”You're the one who's been good,” he said, ”and I bet no one ever thought it was your coming-out party. I'll be here to-morrow at two; so long,” and he was gone.
The next day found them together again walking across the Brooklyn Bridge.
”Ever done this before?” asked d.i.c.k.
”No,” answered Hertha, ”but isn't it wonderful?”
”You bet! Say, you're a good walker, though. I reckon you've walked a lot.”
”Yes, I've often walked of a Sunday afternoon.”
”Who with?”
”My brother.”
There was a defiant tremor in her voice. Ever since her slip with Kathleen she had made up her mind that her past life should include a brother.
”Oh, if you've got a brother,” turning on her abruptly, ”why don't he take care of you?”
”He's too young; but anyway I wouldn't let him. I mean to support myself.”
”Oh, I say, Miss Hertha, don't feel like that! Don't get like these modern girls up here who won't even let a man pick up a handkerchief for 'em. That isn't the kind of girl a man likes.”
”Isn't it?”
”No. A man likes a girl he can help over places, whether they're out walking together just for the day or for life.”
”I suppose you think a man never wants to be helped.”
”Yes, he does, lots of ways. They're no end of ways a woman helps a man, to keep him straight and all that.” He reddened a little. ”But he ought to do the hard work, all the dirty jobs, and it's a dirty job going out to earn your living. And if it isn't dirty, it's too hard. Women ought not to have long hours like men. I bet your brother's reckoning on caring for you when he gets old enough.”
Hertha was silent.