The prevailing stature of the assemblage was rather below medium. This does not include the dozen or two of undergrown lasses of fourteen or thirteen who had come surreptitiously, and—to allay the suspicion of their mothers—in their white aprons. They accordingly had only these articles to check at the hat box, and hence the nickname of “apron-check ladies,” by which this truant contingent was known at Joe’s academy. So that as Jake now stood in the doorway with an orphaned collar button glistening out of the band of his collarless shirt front and an affected expression of ennui overshadowing his face, his strapping figure towered over the circling throng before him. He was immediately noticed and became the target for hellos, smiles, winks, and all manner of pleasantry: “Vot you stand like dot? You vont to loin dantz?” or “You a detectiff?” or “You vont a job?” or, again, “Is it hot anawff for you?” To all of which Jake returned an invariable “Yep!” each time resuming his bored mien.
As he thus gazed at the dancers, a feeling of envy came over him. “Look at them!” he said to himself begrudgingly. “How merry they are! Such shnoozes, they can hardly set a foot well, and yet they are free, while I am a married man. But wait till you get married, too,” he prospectively avenged himself on Joe’s pupils; “we shall see how you will then dance and jump!”
Presently a wave of Joe’s hand brought the music and the trampling to a pause. The girls at once took their seats on the “ladies’ bench,” while the bulk of the men retired to the side reserved for “gents only.” Several apparent post-graduates nonchalantly overstepped the boundary line, and, nothing daunted by the professor’s repeated “Zents to de right an’ ladess to the left!” unrestrainedly kept their girls chuckling. At all events, Joe soon desisted, his attention being diverted by the soda department of his business. “Sawda!” he sang out. “Ull kin’s! Sam, you ought ashamed you’selv; vy don’tz you treat you’ lada?”
In the meantime Jake was the centre of a growing bevy of both sexes. He refused to unbend and to enter into their facetious mood, and his morose air became the topic of their persiflage.
By-and-bye Joe came scuttling up to his side. “Goot-evenig, Dzake!” he greeted him; “I didn’t seen you at ull! Say, Dzake, I’ll take care dis site an’ you take care dot site—ull right?”
“Alla right!” Jake responded gruffly. “Gentsh, getch you partnesh, hawrry up!” he commanded in another instant.
The sentence was echoed by the dancing master, who then blew on his whistle a prolonged shrill warble, and once again the floor was set straining under some two hundred pounding, gliding, or scraping feet.
“Don’ bee ’fraid. Gu right aheat an’ getch you partner!” Jake went on yelling right and left. “Don’ be ’shamed, Mish Cohen. Dansh mit dot gentlemarn!” he said, as he unceremoniously encircled Miss Cohen’s waist with “dot gentlemarn’s” arm. “Cholly! vot’s de madder mitch you? You do hop like a Cossack, as true as I am a Jew,” he added, indulging in a momentary lapse into Yiddish. English was the official language of the academy, where it was broken and mispronounced in as many different ways as there were Yiddish dialects represented in that institution. “Dot’sh de vay, look!” With which Jake seized from Charley a lanky fourteen-year-old Miss Jacobs, and proceeded to set an example of correct waltzing, much to the unconcealed delight of the girl, who let her head rest on his breast with an air of reverential gratitude and bliss, and to the embarrassment of her cavalier, who looked at the evolutions of Jake’s feet without seeing.
Presently Jake was beckoned away to a corner by Joe, whereupon Miss Jacobs, looking daggers at the little professor, sulked off to a distant seat.
“Dzake, do me a faver; hask Mamie to gib dot feller a couple a dantzes,” Joe said imploringly, pointing to an ungainly young man who was timidly viewing the pandemonium-like spectacle from the further end of the “gent’s bench.” “I hasked ’er myself, but se don’ vonted. He’s a beesness man, you ’destan’, an’ he kan a lot o’ fellers an’ I vonted make him satetzfiet.”