Part 19 (1/2)
”Yow!” Mrs. Schrimm murmured skeptically.
”Wouldn't they?” Sam continued. ”Well, you could just bet your life they would. Why, I am sick only a couple weeks or so, Henrietta, and what do them boys do? They practically throw me out of my business yet and tell me I am retired.”
”And you let 'em?” Mrs. Schrimm asked.
”What could I do?” Sam said. ”I'm a sick man, Henrietta. Doctor Eichendorfer says I wouldn't live a year yet.”
”Doctor Eichendorfer says that!” Mrs. Schrimm rejoined. ”And do you told me that you are taking Doctor Eichendorfer's word for it?”
”Doctor Eichendorfer is a _Rosher_, I admit,” Sam answered; ”but he's a pretty good doctor, Henrietta.”
”For the _gesund_, yes,” Mrs. Schrimm admitted. ”But if my cat would be sick, Sam, and Doctor Eichendorfer charges two cents a call yet, I wouldn't have him in my house at all. I got too much respect for my cat, Sam. With that feller, as soon as he comes into the bedroom he says the patient is dying; because if the poor feller does die, understand me, then Eichendorfer is a good prophet, and if he gets better then Eichendorfer is a good doctor. He always fixes it so he gets the credit both ways. But you got to acknowledge one thing about that feller, Sam--he knows how to charge, Sam; and he's a good collector. Everybody says so.”
Sam nodded sadly.
”I give you right about that,” he said.
”And, furthermore,” Mrs. Schrimm began, ”he----”
Mrs. Schrimm proceeded no further, however, for the sound of a saucepan boiling over brought her suddenly to her feet and she dashed into the kitchen.
Two minutes later a delicate, familiar odour a.s.sailed Sam's nostrils, and when Mrs. Schrimm returned she found him unconsciously licking his lips.
”Yes, Sam,” she declared, ”them _Ungarischer_ girls is worser as n.o.body in the kitchen. Pretty near ruins my whole lunch, and I got Mrs.
Krakauer coming, too. You know what a talker that woman is; and if I would give her something which it is a little burned, y'understand, the whole of New York hears about it.”
”Well, Henrietta,” Sam said as he rose and seized his hat, ”I must be going.”
”Going!” Mrs. Schrimm cried. ”Why, you're only just coming. And besides, Sam, you are going to stop to lunch, too.”
”Lunch!” Sam exclaimed. ”Why, I don't eat lunch no more, Henrietta. All the doctor allows me is crackers and milk.”
”Do you mean Doctor Eichendorfer allows you that?” Mrs. Schrimm asked, and Sam nodded.
”Then all I could say is,” she continued, ”that you are going to stay to lunch, because if Doctor Eichendorfer allows a man only crackers and milk, Sam, that's a sign he could eat _Wienerwurst_, dill pickles, and _Handkase_. _Aber_ if Doctor Eichendorfer says you could eat steaks and chops, stick to boiled eggs and milk--because steaks would kill you sure.”
”But Babette would be back at one o'clock and if I didn't get home before then she would take my head off for me.”
Mrs. Schrimm nodded sympathetically.
”So you wouldn't stay for lunch?” she said.
”I couldn't,” Sam protested.
”Very well, then,” Mrs. Schrimm cried as she hurried to the kitchen.
”Sit right down again, Sam; I would be right back.”
When Mrs. Schrimm appeared a few minutes later she bore a cloth-covered tray which she placed on the table in front of Sam.
”You got until half-past twelve--ain't it?” she said; ”so take your time, Sam. You should chew your food good, especially something which it is already half chopped, like _gefullte Rinderbrust_.”