“Dot’sh alla right!” he rejoined, with an affectation of gravity, concealing his triumph. “But you makin’ too much fush. I like to shpeak plain, shee? Dot’sh a kin’ a man I am.”
The next two waltzes Mamie danced with the ungainly novice, taking exaggerated pains with him. Then came a lancers, Joe calling out the successive movements huckster fashion. His command was followed by less than half of the class, however, for the greater part preferred to avail themselves of the same music for waltzing. Jake was bent upon giving Mamie what he called a “sholid good time”; and, as she shared his view that a square or fancy dance was as flimsy an affair as a stick of candy, they joined or, rather, led the seceding majority. They spun along with all-forgetful gusto; every little while he lifted her on his powerful arm and gave her a “mill,” he yelping and she squeaking for sheer ecstasy, as he did so; and throughout the performance his face and his whole figure seemed to be exclaiming, “Dot’sh a kin’ a man I am!”
Several waifs stood in a cluster admiring or begrudging the antics of the star couple. Among these was lanky Miss Jacobs and Fanny the Preacher, who had shortly before made her appearance in the hall, and now stood pale and forlorn by the “apron-check” girl’s side.
“Look at the way she is stickin’ to him!” the little girl observed with envious venom, her gaze riveted to Mamie, whose shapely head was at this moment reclining on Jake’s shoulders, with her eyes half shut, as if melting in a transport of bliss.
Fanny felt cut to the quick.
“You are jealous, ain’t you?” she jerked out.
“Who, me? Vy should I be jealous?” Miss Jacobs protested, colouring. “On my part let them both go to ——. You must be jealous. Here, here! See how your eyes are creeping out looking! Here, here!” she teased her offender in Yiddish, poking her little finger at her as she spoke.
“Will you shut your scurvy mouth, little piece of ugliness, you? Such a piggish apron check!” poor Fanny burst out under breath, tears starting to her eyes.
“Such a nasty little runt!” another girl chimed in.
“Such a little cricket already knows what ‘jealous’ is!” a third of the bystanders put in. “You had better go home or your mamma will give you a spanking.” Whereat the little cricket made a retort, which had better be left unrecorded.