She gave up her job in the millinery store—just why it was necessary to give up her job under the circumstances is difficult to explain, but she did—and moved to Nathan’s house, bag and baggage, “to help.” That her help had not been solicited was immaterial. That there was nothing especially to “help” was likewise passed over. She had not visited Nathan’s home a dozen times since his marriage, not being able to “get along” with Nathan’s wife. And the child had once blandly commented that its grandmother “had starin’, ugly eyes,” which had prejudiced her from intimacy with Nat’s youngster and convinced her that Nathan’s wife and family were somehow in league against her and had put the child up to it. But now that the forked tines of death had struck near home, and tears being right in her line, she insisted on a bed in the front room, and no paid Semitic mourner ever gave greater satisfaction for services rendered than Mrs. Forge before that ordeal was ended.
Incredible to relate, Nathan’s loss called up all her own losses a hundredfold and the distressing period was aggravated by the mother’s worry because the oil-stock salesman had stopped answering her letters as to just when she was to get her dividends of three thousand per cent., and the cold, stark presentiment began to dawn on the woman that perhaps her investment was in jeopardy. It being a time of general sorrow, her own worries and troubles were right in line and she bunched them together. Nathan heard about them for the three-hundredth time; what the oil-stock salesman had said to her, and what she had said to the oil-stock salesman, and what he had promised and what she had expected, and what Johnathan had said to her apropos of her value as a wife during twenty-five years of incompatibility, and what she had retorted to Johnathan,—till Milly exploded and declared if she said another word, she, Milly, would shriek; which Mrs. Forge did and which Milly did, and Nathan had to act as peacemaker and keep all hands as reasonably pleasant as possible until after the services.
I slept with Nathan the night before the funeral. Milly had sent for her own mother and was sleeping with her, the wife characteristically preferring the solace and companionship of her mother to her husband, and my presence being proffered to mitigate my friend’s load as much as I could. And Mrs. Forge wept for her lost grandchild and oil-stock—or oil-stock and grandchild—and would not be comforted.
I marveled at my chum’s moral fiber and mental strength. Once I caught tears streaming down his face, when alone for a moment. But he smiled courageously through them and seemed grateful for my sympathy. His lips were very firm through that ghastly ordeal and his patience was infinite.
On the night before the funeral, as aforesaid, Mrs. Anna Forge walked the upper hallway outside our door, thought of all the indignities, injustices and sorrows she had ever experienced and gave the two of us a full account of them. Whole hours passed thus and time slipped on into deeper night. At intervals Mrs. Forge’s haranguing voice stopped or she was compelled to stop because of her sobbing. But she soon started in again. Then it dawned upon her that Nathan might not be listening. When she called to him and he failed to answer—though he was wide-awake enough—she planted herself in front of the bedroom door and gave Nathan to understand in high-C language that if Nathan didn’t come down in the parlor and hear all about his father and the oil stock and “what she had suffered”, she would come in there and talk to him even if there was a strange man in the bed. She didn’t propose to go on talking when he didn’t show any more “respect” for his mother than to go to sleep.
“Nat,” said I, “may I take a hand and settle this? You can’t listen to this harangue all night. You’ve got to get some sleep or you’ll go crazy.”
“No, no, Bill,” he answered. He sighed and stretched wearily in the bed. “It’s only mother and—well, she can’t help it. She’s built that way, and I suppose her own troubles have sort of unbalanced her.”
“Nathan!” came the mother’s stringent demand. “I’ll not stand here talking all night! Will you come down and hear what I’ve got to say, or will I come in?”
“Nat,” I cried angrily, “for God’s sake let me settle this!”
“You couldn’t, Bill. You’d only make her worse. And I don’t want her to run screaming down the center of the street at this time of night, arousing the neighbors and telling them all her troubles. I’ll go down and talk with her.”