“Washington,” said Mr. Blum, “you're talking about American theayters. But what you got against the Chairman theayter—the Thalia—hey?”
“Oh, you go 'way. You want to get back to our old quarrel,” Mr. Koch retorted. “No, thanks.”
“Sarah,” said her father, abruptly, “there's one of your adopted children—my grainchild, consequently,” he added, winking humorously at Elias.
He pointed toward the open window, at which appeared the red and weather-beaten visage of an elderly tramp. The tramp was peering in through the iron bars, and muttering an inarticulate, plaintive prayer—presumably for “cold victuals.” Mrs. Koch glanced over her shoulders at him, and then, addressing a hasty “Excuse me,” to the company, got up and left the room.
“She's got about twenty of them fellers,” Mr. Blum informed Elias, “who she tries to be a mudder for. She feeds them, and clothes them, and gives them free lectures. They're coming all the time. We don't never sit down to a meal, but one of them sticks his head in the winder. Now, you just listen.”
Out in the area, Mrs. Koch's high-pitched voice could be heard earnestly speaking as follows:
“Oh, you baid man! You told me you wouldn't touch another drop of liquor this week! And now I see you been indoxicated! You smell perfectly outracheous; and dot loafly coat I give you, all spoiled! I got a great mind to send you away, and naifer do nothing for you any more.”
A dull reverberation, like the far-distant roll of muffled drums, testified that the tramp was pleading in his defense. After which, Mrs. Koch went on: “Vail, you promise you don't drink another glaiss of liquor till next Sunday, hey? You cross your heart, and promise? All right. Then, you take this. And bright and early, to-morrow morning, you come around here, and I give you a job. I want my cellar to be cleaned out.”
“She makes them fellers say they'll come around to-morrow morning, every time she sees them; but they don't never come,” Mr. Blum announced. “She's keeping dot cellar dirty just on purpose, so dot some time she can give the chop to one of them good-for-nodings. I guess I clean it out myself, if dot goes on much longer.—Hey! Hold on, there!” he cried, with sudden excitement. He ran to the window; stopped the tramp, who was in process of departure; and deposited a twenty-five-cent silver piece in his grimy palm. Returning to his seat, he appeared quite oblivious to the laughter at his expense, in which the others were indulging.
“You want to kill that old fellow, don't you?” Mr. Koch demanded. “Giving him a quarter! Why, it will bring on an attack of delirium tremens.”