“Oh, he would be glad enough to give you credit until Sunday, when the wages are paid. But woe to you if you owe him money! He will not only charge you double for everything you take, but he will force you to drink and gamble with him until you are altogether at his mercy. You will never see one penny of your own money and will be forever in his power!”
George grew frightened as he listened to her. “But how can I manage to live until Sunday?” he said, crestfallen. “To-day is only Wednesday, and if I am not to take anything on credit I shall have to starve.”
For some minutes she busied herself with the hem of her skirt, ripping out a part of the seam. At last she took out a crumpled paper, which she unfolded carefully; it was one of those notes of low denomination that circulated in Austria at that time and answered the purpose of coin; they were called “quarters.” She passed this to George. “Take it,” she said; “that is enough until Sunday, if you are careful. You can return it to me little by little, taking it from your wages every week.”
He looked at the tattered paper in her hand, speechless with emotion. Surprise, joy, embarrassment, one after the other were reflected in his face.
“It is all that I have,” she continued with simple confidence. “The engineer gave it to me when he was here last month. He had forgotten one of his instruments he had left at another station, and I had to get it for him. Really, it would please me very much if you would take the money. I am in constant fear of losing it; that is why I sewed it into my skirt. If the foreman knew of it he would have taken it long ago.” She put it into his hand, adding: “And now let us go to dinner. Don’t forget what I told you about the meat. The flour is often musty, too; but there will be good potatoes at least; they brought some yesterday. And in the evening you might allow yourself a glass of gin; that will do you good.” He got up and followed her silently; but for a few steps he stood still, looked earnestly into her gentle, brown eyes, and said with trembling voice:
“How can I ever thank you enough, Tertschka? No one has ever been as kind and good to me as you are.”
“Oh, don’t speak of it,” she answered; “we ought to help one another in this world. And, besides, you would do the same for me, I know. You are kind, too; I saw it in your face when you came to the house yesterday.” By this time they had reached the house. Inside they found the others, most of them eating from broken dishes. The foreman, with sleeves turned up and a big apron tied in front, stood by the stove, ready to carve a large piece of roast beef. Poor George heaved an involuntary sigh when he smelt the savory odor of the roast. All the men looked greedily at it, and each one in turn received a large piece, which he ate with his hand. Some of them paid in coin, but only a very few; the others bought on credit, the foreman keeping an account in a little book. George approached the man, holding a dish that Tertschka had given him. At first the foreman did not recognize him, but soon he remembered: “Oh, there is the little man who came yesterday!” he cried. “Well, have you done any work?”
“Yes, I have crushed stones!”
“And now you want something to eat, I see. What shall I give you?”
“I would like some porridge and potatoes.”