Every Soul Hath Its Song. Fannie Hurst
Binswanger stooped with difficulty over his wicker traveling-bag.
"So! Na!"
In the act of adjusting her perky new hat Miriam flung out an intercepting hand. "Oh, papa, you mustn't put in that old flannel house-coat. That's not fit to wear anywhere but at home. And, papa, papa, you just mustn't take along that old black skull-cap; you'll be laughing-stock! Papa, please!"
He flung her off. "In my house and out of my house what I want to wear I wear. If in Naples them Eyetalians don't like what I wear, then—"
"Italians, papa; how many times have I told you to say it Italians?"
"When they don't like what I wear over there, right away they should lump it."
"Papa, please!"
From the room adjoining Mrs. Binswanger leaned a crumpled coiffure through the frame of the open door: "Simon, I got here that red woolen undershirt. I want you should put it on before we start."
"Na, na, mamma, I—"
"Right away Mrs. Berkovitz says it will keep the salt air away from your rheumatism. That's what I need yet, you should grex from the start with your backache. Ray, take this in to your papa. Fooling with that new camera she stands all morning, when she should help a little. Look, Miriam, you think that in here I got the express checks safe?"
"Yes, mamma."
At ten o'clock, with the last bolt sprung and the last baggage departed, Mrs. Binswanger fell to the task of fitting gold links in her husband's adjustable cuffs, polishing his various pairs of spectacles, inserting various handkerchiefs in adjacent and expeditious pockets of his clothing.
"Simon, I want you should go in and dress now. All your things is laid right out on the bed for you."
"Mamma, you and papa don't need to begin to dress already. None of you need to leave the house until about two, and it's only ten now. Just think, from now until two o'clock you got to get ready in, mamma."
"When I travel I don't take no chances."
Miriam worked eager fingers into her new, dark-blue kid gloves. She was dark and trig in a little belted jacket, a gold quill shimmering at a cocky angle on the new blue-straw hat.
"To be on the safe side, mamma, I'm going right now to meet Irving, so we can sure have lunch and be at the boat by two."
"Not one minute later, Miriam!"
"Not one minute, mamma. Don't forget, Ray, you promised to bring my field-glass for me. Be in the state-room all of you where Irving and I can find you easy. There's always a big crowd at sailing. Don't get excited, mamma. Ray, be sure and fix papa's cuffs so the red flannel don't show. Good-by. Don't get excited, mamma!"
"Miriam, you got on the asafetidy-bag?"
"Yes, mamma."
"Miriam, you don't be one minute later as two—"
"No, mamma."
"Miriam, you—"
"Good-by!"
Over a luncheon that lay cold and unrelished between them Irving Shapiro leaned to Miriam Binswanger, his voice competing with the five-piece orchestra and noonday blather of the Oriental Café.
"I just can't get it in my head, somehow, Miriam, that to-morrow this time you'll be out on the sea."
"Me neither."
"I just never had two weeks fly like these since we got acquainted."
"Me—me neither."
Music like great laughter rose over the slip-up in her voice.
"You going to write to me, Miriam?"
"Yes, Irving."
"Often?"
"Yes, Irving."
"You're not going to forget me over there, are you, when you get to meeting all those counts and big fellows?"
"Oh, Irving!"
"You're not going to clean forget me then, are you, Miriam, and the great times we've had together, and the days in the woods, and the singing, and—"
"Oh, Irving, don't. I—Please—"
She laid her fork across her untouched plate and turned her face from him. Tears rose to choke her, and, tighten her throat against them as she would, one rose to the surface and ricocheted down her cheek.
"Why, Miriam!"
"It's nothing, Irving, only—only let's get out of here. I don't want any lunch, I just don't."
"Miriam, that's the way I feel, too. I—I just can't bear to have you go!"
"You—We can't talk like that, Irving."
"I tell you, Miriam, I just can't bear it!"
"I—I—oh—"
He leaned across the table for her hand, whispering, with an entire flattening of tone, "Miriam, don't go!"
"Irving, don't—talk so—so silly!"
"Miriam, let's—let's you and me stay at home!"
"Irving!"
"Let's, Miriam!"
"Irving, are you crazy?" But her voice yearned toward him.
"Miriam, right at this table I've got an idea. We can do it, Miriam; we can do it if you're game."
"Do what?"
He flashed out his watch. "We've got two hours and twenty minutes before she sails."
"Irving!"
"We have, dear, to—to get a special license and the ring and do the trick."
"Why, I—"
"Two hours and twenty minutes to make it all right for you to stay back with me. Miriam, are you game, dear?"
They regarded each other across the table as if each beheld in the other a vision.
"Irving, you—you must be crazy!"
"I'm not, dear. I was never less crazy. What's the use of us having to get apart after we just got each other? What's all those phony counts and picture-galleries and high-sounding stunts compared to us staying home and hitting it off together, Miriam? Just tell me that, Miriam."
"Irving, I—we just couldn't! Look at mamma and papa and Ray, all down at the boat maybe by now waiting for me, and none of them wanting to go except me. For a whole year I had to beg them for this, Irving. They wouldn't be going now if it wasn't for me. I—Irving, you must be crazy!"
He leaned closer and out of range of the waiter, his voice repressed to a tight whisper.
"None of those things count when a girl and a fellow fall in love like you and me, Miriam."
Even in her crisis her diffidence inclosed her like a sheath. "I never said I—I was in love, did I?"
"But you are! They'll go over there, Miriam, without you and have the time of their lives. We'll stay home and keep the flat open for them so your mother won't have to worry any more about burglars. After the first surprise it won't be a trick at all. We got two hours and fifteen minutes, dearie, and we can do the act and be down at the boat with bells on to tell 'em good-by. Now ain't the time to think about the little things and waste time, Miriam. We got to do it now or off you go hiking, just like—like we had never met, a whole ocean between us, Miriam!"
"Irving, you—you mustn't."
She pushed back from the table. He paid his check with a hand that trembled, resuming, even as he crammed his bill-folder into a rear pocket:
"Be a sport, Miriam! I tell you we got the right to do it because we're in love. We'll just tell