“Yes—I—” Fanny bit her lips as she fumbled evasively for words. “I asked her if she wouldn’t mind my taking her some other time.”
“Now you have made a mess of it!” fumed Benny. “Mother’ll be too hurt to go now.”
“Well, I don’t care,” snapped Fanny. “I can’t appear with mother in a box at the theater. Can I introduce her to Mrs. Van Suyden? And suppose your leading man should ask to meet me?”
“Take your time, sis. He hasn’t asked yet,” scoffed Benny.
“The more reason I shouldn’t spoil my chances. You know mother. She’ll spill the beans that we come from Delancey Street the minute we introduce her anywhere. Must I always have the black shadow of my past trailing after me?”
“But have you no feelings for mother?” admonished Abe.
“I’ve tried harder than all of you to do my duty. I’ve lived with her.” She turned angrily upon them. “I’ve borne the shame of mother while you bought her off with a present and a treat here and there. God knows how hard I tried to civilize her so as not to have to blush with shame when I take her anywhere. I dressed her in the most stylish Paris models, but Delancey Street sticks out from every inch of her. Whenever she opens her mouth, I’m done for. You fellows had your chance to rise in the world because a man is free to go up as high as he can reach up to; but I, with all my style and pep, can’t get a man my equal because a girl is always judged by her mother.”
They were silenced by her vehemence, and unconsciously turned to Benny.
“I guess we all tried to do our best for mother,” said Benny, thoughtfully. “But wherever there is growth, there is pain and heartbreak. The trouble with us is that the ghetto of the Middle Ages and the children of the twentieth century have to live under one roof, and—”
A sound of crashing dishes came from the kitchen, and the voice of Hanneh Breineh resounded through the dining-room as she wreaked her pent-up fury on the helpless servant.