Every Soul Hath Its Song. Fannie Hurst
it ain't raining to-morrow, I'm going to take him out if I have to carry him in my arms. Say, wouldn't I like to feel myself rolling him in one of them white-enamel, glass-top things like Van Ness has for her last one. Ida May tried three places to get one for us."
"They're made special."
"All my life I've wanted to feel myself wheeling him, Phonzie. I used to dream myself doing it in the old place down on Twenty-third Street, when I used to sit at the sewing-table from eight until eight. Gee! I—honest, I just can't wait to see if the sun is shining to-morrow."
He kissed her again on the back of each finger, and she let her hand, pale and rather inert, rest on his hair.
"Is my boy hungry for his din-din?"
"Gee! yes! The noon appointments came so thick I had to send Eddie out to bring me a bite."
"What kind of a day?"
"Everything smooth but the designing-room. Gert done her best, but they don't take hold without you, hon. They can't even get in their heads that gold charmeuse idea Gert and I swiped at the Ritz last night."
"Did you tell them I'll be back on the job next week, Phonzie?"
"Nothing doing. You're going to stay right here, snug in your rug, another two weeks."
"Rave on, hon, but I got the nurse engaged for Monday. How's the Van
Norder wedding-dress coming?"
"Great! That box train you drew up will float down the aisle after her like a white cobweb. It's a knock-out."
"Say, won't I be glad to get back in harness!"
"You got to take it slow, Mil."
"And ain't you glad it's all over, Phonzie?"
"Am I!"
"Four weeks old to-morrow, and Ida May was over to-day and says she never seen a kid so big for his age."
"He takes after my grandfather—he was six feet two without shoes."
"You ought to seen him to-day laying next to me, Phonzie. He looked up and squinted, dear, for all the world like you."
A bell tinkled. In the frame of a double doorway a seventeen-year-old maid drew back the portières on brass rings that grated. In the room adjoining and beneath a lighted dome of colored glass a table lay spread, uncovered dishes exuding fragrant spirals of steam.
"Supper! Say, ain't it great to have you back at the table again, Mil?"
"Oh, I don't know, the way—the way you went hiking off last night to—to a ball."
"Aw, now, hon, 'ain't you got that out of your system yet? For a girlie with all your good sense, if you ain't the greatest little one to get a silly gix and work it to death."
"I just made a civil remark."
"What was the use wasting that ten-dollar pair of tickets the guy from Carson City gave her, when we could use them and get some tips on some of the imports the women wore?"
"I never said to waste them."
"You know it don't hurt to get around and see what's being worn, hon.
That's our business."
Tears of weakness welled to her eyes and she stooped over her plate to conceal them.
"I'm not saying anything, am I? Only—only it's right lucky she can fill my place so—so well while I—I got to be away awhile."
Her barbed comment only pricked him to happy thought. He made a quick foray into his side pocket. "I brought up one of these pink velvet roses for you to look at, Mil. It's Gert's idea to festoon these underneath the net tunic on McGrath's blue taffeta. See, like that. It's a neat little idea, hon, and Gert had these roses made up in shaded effects like this one. How you like it?"
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