“You go now! My man stick to his beesness. He mak good mon. We got our little home.”
Meyer attempted to argue. Benda tried to edge in a word. It was useless. Angela’s shrill voice rose in an endless chorus of protest.
Benda threw up his hands in surrender and re-entered the store. Meyer angrily turned on his heel and crossed the street to see Schultz, the delicatessen man on the opposite corner.
Schultz proved impossible from the first. His jovial face was wreathed in smiles but his voice was firm in its deep mumbling undertone.
“No—mein frient—no more drill for me—I fight no more except for the flag dot give me mein freedom and mein home!”
The two men held each other’s gaze in a moment of dramatic tension. The menace in Meyer’s voice was unmistakable as he answered:
CHAPTER IV
JOHN VASSAR’S triumphant return to his home on Stuyvesant Square, after the introduction of his sensational bill in Congress, was beset with domestic complications. Congratulations from his father, nieces, and Wanda had scarcely been received before the trouble began.
“But you must hear Miss Holland!” Zonia pleaded.