With the 
 Best Intention 
 
 OF CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELAS
 
 While the young couple were welcoming the rabbi, Lapidowitz 
 swooped down upon the refreshment table
 
 With the 
 
 Best Intention 
 
 By 
 
 Bruno Lessing 
 
 With Illustrations by 
 M. Leone Bracker 
 
 New York 
 
 Hearst's International Library Co. 
 1914
 
 Copyright, 191S. 1014. by 
 INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE Co. 
 
 Copyright, 1914, by 
 HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIURARY Co., INC. 
 
 All rights reserved, including the translation into foreign 
 languages, including the Scandinavian.
 
 Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I The Schnorrer 's Arrival . ... ... 11 
 
 II An Apple Wasted ........ 31 
 
 III Lapidowitz's List 47 
 
 IV "From Him That Hath Not" . ... 61 
 V Lapidowitz Lapses 77 
 
 VI Love Me Love My Dog 89 
 
 VII Love's Young Dream ...... 113 
 
 VIII Just as It Happened 136 
 
 IX The Interrupted Wedding 161 
 
 X A Night of Horrors 186 
 
 XI Lapidowitz Meets Greek 209 
 
 XII Knight Takes Queen 229 
 
 XIII Klein's Financial System 255 
 
 XIV Bimberg's Night Off 279 
 
 XV Lapidowitz's Partner 300 
 
 XVI "Ich Gebibble" . . 326 
 
 2131037
 
 Illustrations 
 
 While the young couple were welcom- 
 ing the rabbi, Lapidowitz swooped 
 down upon the refreshment table . Frontispiece 
 
 TACINQ 
 PAQB 
 
 On the opposite side of the street was a tall, lank 
 figure, frock coated and bearded, waiting 
 with the patience of Job 46 
 
 ' ' I haf come from Mister Lubarsky. Ve are great 
 friends, unt he is so anxious to get married 
 vit'you" 52 
 
 ' ' Here iss der key uf my room. Vait till der dog 
 comes out. Take him to my room, und I gif 
 you a quarter" 116 
 
 Lapidowitz held aloft his slate. Solly read: 
 ' ' The $5 I ast you for I need bad. Kant you 
 slip it in my hand?" 246 
 
 It was a pair of twos. "That looks easy," said 
 his opponent, and calmly threw a pair of 
 threes 260 
 
 And then came Friday, the gala day of the 
 
 Ghetto, and business poured in with a rush . 314 
 
 As soon as Lapidowitz had been arrayed in his 
 new silk hat and borrowed coat, Bernstein 
 took him to call upon the widow . . . 332
 
 With the 
 Best Intention
 
 With the Best Intention 
 
 The Schnorrer's Arrival 
 
 IT was wonderful how quietly the United 
 States of America took the arrival of 
 Moishe Gordonsky. No bells rang, no whistles 
 blew, and nothing out of the ordinary hap- 
 pened; that is, nothing save the arrival of 
 Moishe Gordonsky. He could not understand 
 it. That so epoch-making an event should pass 
 unnoticed seemed inexplicable to Moishe be- 
 cause, to him, this event meant the uprooting 
 of the world, the changing of the entire solar 
 system. Not that Moishe knew anything about 
 either the world or the solar system ; but noth- 
 ing short of such an upheaval could adequately 
 compare with his idea of the change in the ex- 
 isting order of things. 
 Moishe Gordonsky was eleven years old when 
 
 he arrived. He came with his father and! 
 
 11
 
 12 With the Best Intention 
 
 mother and Chaim Lapidowitz, the schnorrer, 
 from a tiny town in Lithuania, beyond the hori- 
 zon of which his imagination had never before 
 strayed. And now, here he was in the land 
 of liberty and gold, the world rosy before him, 
 the dreary past forever removed from his life ; 
 and no one seemed to take the slightest account 
 of it. Moishe was disappointed. 
 
 Throughout the voyage Lapidowitz had re- 
 galed him with wonderful accounts of this new 
 land. Lapidowitz himself had never travelled 
 beyond the confines of his native village before, 
 but he possessed a lively imagination and an 
 amazing disregard for facts. 
 
 "It is a land of liberty and gold!" he said, 
 time and time again. "You can find money 
 everywhere all you want. And you're free." 
 
 Strange to say, the idea of liberty appealed 
 to Moishe even more than the idea of boundless 
 gold. He was too young to love money, but 
 he had already suffered from oppression. But 
 now he was free I The dread monster of au- 
 thority would oppress him no more. And gold 
 was everywhere, too, the schnorrer had said. 
 
 A schnorrer, if you have never met one, is a 
 member of a Jewish community who lives by 
 his wits, never works if he can help it, knows
 
 The Schnorrer's Arrival 13 
 
 every line of the Torah and Talmud that can 
 possibly be used as an appeal for charity, eats, 
 drinks, wears, and smokes anything that is given 
 to him, and is usually quite amiable. During 
 most of his life Lapidowitz had begged and 
 borrowed with strict impartiality from all his 
 co-religionists in his native town, but, for 
 nearly a year now, he had rather favoured Gor- 
 donsky. Gordonsky was good-hearted and gave 
 gladly. He looked upon Lapidowitz as a cheer- 
 ful good-for-nothing whom it was easier to 
 feed than reform. And when, during the riots, 
 it happened that the schnorrer appeared in Gor- 
 donsky 's store in time to save Mrs. Gordon- 
 sky and Moishe from the fury of the mob, Gor- 
 donsky was content to take care of Lapidowitz 
 to the end of his days. But the pillage of his 
 store almost ruined him. There was barely 
 enough money left to pay passage for his fam- 
 ily to New York and to support them for a 
 month or two while he found employment. And 
 when the schnorrer begged to be taken along 
 Gordonsky could not refuse. 
 
 At Castle Garden this was before the day 
 when immigrants began to land at Ellis Island 
 they were met by the Babbi Zoline, head of 
 the Lithuanian synagogue in New York to
 
 14 With the Best Intention 
 
 which most of Gordonsky's fellow townsmen 
 here belonged. He gathered together about 
 forty prospective members of his congregation 
 and helped them through the routine of govern- 
 mental inspection. 
 
 "Now," said he, "the first thing you ought 
 to do is to change all your Russian money for 
 American money." 
 
 Lapidowitz, the schnorrer, drew a handful 
 of money from his pocket. 
 
 "Where did you get that money?" cried Gor- 
 donsky in amazement. "I thought you didn't 
 have anything!" 
 
 "I saved it," said the schnorrer sheepishly. 
 "It was in case I got sick." 
 
 "And I kept giving you money, thinking you 
 were poor! You're a gonof (thief). How 
 much have you?" 
 
 "A hundred and fifty rubles," said the 
 schnorrer. The sum was equivalent to about 
 seventy-six dollars. 
 
 "Such a gonof!" said Gordonsky. "How 
 could you be such a liar?" 
 
 "I wanted to surprise you," said Lapidowitz, 
 quite crestfallen. "Maybe if there is a chance 
 I go into business with you, and then we have
 
 The Schnorrer's Arrival 15 
 
 capital. That is," he added quickly, "if you 
 put in as much." 
 
 "With a gonof I never go into partnership," 
 said Gordonsky. 
 
 When all the immigrants had exchanged their 
 money Rabbi Zoline formed them into a strag- 
 gling procession and led them in the direction 
 of the wilderness of tenements on the East 
 Side that was henceforth to be their home. 
 Lapidowitz walked beside the rabbi at the head 
 of the procession, with Gordonsky close behind, 
 grumbling at the schnorrer's perfidy. 
 
 The schnorrer, calmly indifferent to his bene- 
 factor's reproaches, was entirely absorbed in 
 contemplating the Eabbi Zoline. The silk hat, 
 the imposing frock coat, and the whole self- 
 possessed bearing of the man fascinated the 
 schnorrer. The gorgeous purple tie, the heavy, 
 glittering watch-chain, and the gold-headed 
 cane that he carried filled Lapidowitz with ad- 
 miration. It was all in such sharp contrast to 
 the slinking, ill-clad figures he had been accus- 
 tomed to see in his Lithuanian Ghetto that the 
 rabbi symbolised to him the whole spirit of 
 liberty and wealth of this new land. 
 
 Moishe, with his eyes glued to the pavement,
 
 16 With the Best Intention 
 
 brought up the rear of the procession. He was 
 looking for money. Suddenly he gave a cry. 
 A silver coin lay on the walk before him. The 
 schnorrer had spoken the truth. Moishe 
 eagerly seized the coin, but, even before he 
 could pocket it, his eyes fell upon another and 
 then another and another and another as though 
 it had rained money that day silver money of 
 all denominations until his pockets were nearly 
 full. A shadow fell across his path, and he 
 looked up. It was the schnorrer. 
 
 "Your father sent me to find you," he said. 
 "You'll get lost if you fall behind like that." 
 
 "Look!" cried Moishe, eagerly displaying a 
 handful of the money. "I found all this in the 
 street." 
 
 The schnorrer 's mouth opened wide. "My, 
 but you are lucky," said he. "I was so busy 
 thinking of other things that I forgot all about 
 the money. I guess I'll look, too." 
 
 Then, slowly, they walked together, the 
 schnorrer even more eager than the boy. They 
 found more money, and the schnorrer shouted 
 with joy. 
 
 "In a few days we'll be rich men, Moishe," 
 said he. * ' Then we'll buy a horse and carriage, 
 and we'll never have to work again."
 
 THe Schnorrer's Arrival 17 
 
 Presently the schnorrer stooped and picked 
 up a roll of bills. "Look, Moishe!" he cried. 
 "Paper money, too! Only I don't know how 
 much it 's worth. I '11 have to ask the rabbi. ' ' 
 
 And then, it seemed, the godsend ceased. 
 Search as they might, they could not find an- 
 other cent. Block after block they walked, very 
 slowly, and they were sure they had not over- 
 looked a single square inch of the sidewalk. 
 But their luck, for the day, was at an end. A 
 policeman, who had been observing the two for 
 several minutes, approached them. 
 
 "What's the trouble?" he asked. "Did you 
 lose anything?" 
 
 They did not understand a word he said, but 
 Moishe eagerly explained that they were look- 
 ing for money. The policeman shook his head. 
 
 "I guess the East Side is the place you're 
 looking for," he said. Then Moishe suddenly 
 became aware that his parents and the rabbi 
 and the rest of their party were no longer in 
 sight. 
 
 "Let us hurry," he said, "or we'll get lost." 
 
 They walked as rapidly as they could, even 
 ran at times, but when they reached Grand 
 Street they realised that the others must have 
 turned off into some side street, for they were
 
 18 With the Best Intention 
 
 nowhere to he seen. The policeman at the cor- 
 ner of Grand Street and Broadway, however, 
 was accustomed to directing newly arrived im- 
 migrants. They came hy his post nearly every 
 day ; and he even knew a few words of Yiddish. 
 
 "Straight ahead," he said, pointing down 
 Grand Street. "Keep straight ahead, and 
 you'll get home." 
 
 They followed his direction, and in a little 
 while they found themselves in a neighbourhood 
 ablaze with lights and with signs bearing He- 
 brew characters on every side. And here, too, 
 were so many of their countrymen, with unmis- 
 takable beards and ringlets and garments, that 
 they both felt quite at home. But of their 
 party there was no sign. In front of a cloth- 
 ing-store the schnorrer suddenly stopped. 
 
 "Moishe," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "I 
 have a great idea. It will be some time before 
 we find your papa and mamma. Let's go in 
 here and spend some of the money we found. 
 Let's each get a nice American suit of clothes, 
 and then they'll all be surprised when they 
 see us." 
 
 Moishe laughed merrily at the idea. ' ' They 
 won't even know us when they see us," he said. 
 "We'll pretend we're Americans at first."
 
 The Schnorrer 's Arrival 19 
 
 The proprietor of the store was one of the 
 chosen people, and the schnorrer had little dif- 
 ficulty in making himself understood. 
 
 " You look like an honest man," said Lapido- 
 witz. "We have just arrived to-day and do not 
 know the right styles. I trust you to give us 
 only the very best clothes that are worn here." 
 
 "My customers, " said the proprietor, with 
 an air of injured pride, "are the best people in 
 New York." 
 
 The outfitting of Moishe and the schnorrer 
 did not take long. In less than fifteen minutes 
 they were transformed into different beings. 
 Instead of looking like newly arrived immi- 
 grants, they looked as if they had lived in Hes- 
 ter Street all their lives. The clothier then took 
 them to a friend of his who kept a hat-store 
 across the street, where the schnorrer purchased 
 a silk-hat, while Moishe became the possessor of 
 a wonderful derby that came down to his ears. 
 Then, each with a bundle containing his old 
 clothes under his arm, they set forth to find 
 their party. As they walked down the street, 
 the schnorrer, with his silk hat tilted rakishly 
 to one side, tried to imitate, as closely as he 
 could, the walk and manner of the rabbi. At 
 every store window that was dark enough to
 
 20 With the Best Intention 
 
 serve the purpose of a mirror he paused to sur- 
 vey himself, and the view filled him with great 
 satisfaction. As he came to a stop before one 
 of these windows near a corner Moishe, walking 
 a few feet ahead, thought he saw the rabbi and 
 his party moving down a side street. As 
 swiftly as his legs could carry him he ran after 
 them, only to find that it was another rabbi 
 or a man who looked exactly like a rabbi lead- 
 ing a wedding party. He retraced his steps, 
 looked around him in bewilderment, and after 
 running hither and thither for a few minutes 
 realised that he had lost his companion. And 
 then a great fear took hold of him. All thought 
 of liberty and gold vanished from his mind, 
 and he was only a little boy who wanted his 
 father and his mother. Slowly a couple of tears 
 rolled down his cheeks, followed by more until, 
 losing all his dignity, he began to cry out- 
 right. 
 
 When a boy with a new derby hat and a 
 bundle under his arm stands still and cries on 
 the East Side, even to this day, a crowd quickly 
 gathers. Moishe was soon surrounded by an 
 inquiring group to whom, between sobs, he told 
 his story, and when a policeman arrived there 
 were a dozen to translate his tale of woe.
 
 The Schnorrer's Arrival 21 
 
 "He's losted! He's a greenhorn! He don't 
 know where he lives!" they cried. 
 
 The policeman patted Moishe on the head and 
 with a cheerful smile beckoned him to accom- 
 pany him. 
 
 "Don't be scared," the crowd cried. "He'll 
 take you to headquarters. They'll send out an 
 alarm. You'll find your folks all right." 
 
 At the station house the sergeant who sat at 
 the desk spoke Yiddish. 
 
 "Just hang round here a little while," he said 
 to the boy. "Your folks will probably be here 
 looking for you. If they don't I'll send you to 
 headquarters. Don't be afraid. We'll take 
 good care of you." 
 
 Moishe was no longer afraid and, in a little 
 while, was roaming all over the station house. 
 He saw a great many policemen in uniform sit- 
 ting in one of the rooms, and at the foot of 
 a flight of stairs he saw a row of cells. Why, 
 the schnorrer was wrong ! It was a country of 
 gold, but the people weren't entirely free they 
 had men in uniform over them just as in Eussia. 
 
 Moishe proudly showed the sergeant the 
 money he had found. 
 
 "In the street?" cried the sergeant. "Holy 
 smoke, but you're a lucky kid! Let's see it
 
 22 With the Best Intention 
 
 Sure enough, it's real money. I ought to keep 
 it till the owner shows up, but I guess it's safe 
 with you. Finding money in the street! Well, 
 I'll be hanged!" 
 
 At that moment the door opened and in burst 
 the Rabbi Zoline with Gordonsky at his heels. 
 "A little boy got lost," began the rabbi excit- 
 edly, when the sergeant interrupted him by 
 pointing to Moishe. The rabbi was about to 
 deny that this was the lad they were looking 
 for when Moishe, recognising his father, flew 
 into his arms. But even Gordonsky had some 
 doubts. 
 
 "Is it my Moishe?" he cried. "Where did 
 you get all those fine clothes?" 
 
 "I found money in the street," said Moishe. 
 "Look! Nearly a whole pocketful! And Mr. 
 Lapidowitz found a lot, too. He found paper 
 money. ' ' 
 
 "Where is Lapidowitz?" asked his father. 
 
 "I don't know. We got separated some- 
 where." 
 
 "Well," remarked his father, "I guess he is 
 able to look after himself. He's a very smart 
 man, and if I don't ever see him again I won't 
 cry about it. You'd better let me keep your
 
 The Schnorrer's Arrival 23 
 
 money with mine, Moishe, because you might 
 lose it." ' 
 
 He thrust his hand into his pocket to take out 
 his own money, paused, turned pale, and beads 
 of perspiration stood upon his forehead. He 
 clutched the rabbi's arm. 
 
 1 * My money 's gone ! " he cried. * ' I 've been 
 robbed I" 
 
 "Where did you keep it? Are you sure you 
 didn't put it in your satchel?" the rabbi asked. 
 
 "Never would I carry money in a bag. 
 Look! In this pocket I put it. Didn't you see 
 me do it, Moishe?" 
 
 He pulled his pocket inside out. The ser- 
 geant, leaning over the desk, pointed to it. 
 
 "Man alive!" he exclaimed, "you've got a 
 hole in your pocket big enough for a house to 
 fall through. And well, I'll be jinked! Ha! 
 Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! Ho!" 
 
 They all stared at him in amazement, and 
 then, slowly, a smile crept into the rabbi's face. 
 "Where did you find this money, Moishe?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "In the street when I was walking away from 
 the place where we got off the ship. ' ' 
 
 The sergeant continued to roar with laughter.
 
 24 Witli the Best Intention 
 
 The rabbi laid his hand on G-ordonsky's shoul- 
 der. 
 
 "I'm afraid," he said gently, "your son and 
 his friend picked up the money that dropped 
 out of your pocket." 
 
 "And the kid thought he was finding money 
 in the street! Ho! Ho! Ho!" cried the ser- 
 geant. Then, seeing that no one joined in his 
 laughter, and perceiving a tear trickle down 
 Moishe's cheek as the disillusioning situation 
 dawned on him, the sergeant became grave. 
 "Cheer up!" he said. "You've got some of the 
 money back, and maybe you'll get all the rest." 
 
 1 l The schnor rer ! ' ' cried Gordonsky. * * Where 
 is he? I must find him!" 
 
 He started for the door, but the rabbi re- 
 strained him. 
 
 "Wait a minute! You can't find a man in 
 New York like that Leave it to the police." 
 
 The sergeant summoned a detective and ex- 
 plained the situation to him. "You go along 
 with these people and see if you can't find the 
 other chap," he said. 
 
 As they left the station house the sergeant 
 thrust something into Moishe's hand. "Put 
 that in your pocket and don't look at it till you 
 get home," said he.
 
 The Schnorrer's Arrival 25 
 
 In Grand Street they were fortunate enough 
 to come upon the schnorrer's trail without much 
 loss of time. A Yiddish push-cart vendor rec- 
 ognised the description at once. 
 
 " Dot's him," he said eagerly. "A stylish 
 greenhorn. He says dot he vos vit a liddle boy 
 vot got losted und vants to know vot he should 
 do. Und I told him der policemens take al- 
 ways der losted childers to der station house 
 unt keeps dem till der owners comes. So he 
 says, 'Veil,' he says, 'den dere iss no hurry. 
 I am losted, too,' he says, 'but I find myself 
 unt der boy ven I gets finished vit my bizness,' 
 he says. 'Vare,' he says, ' should I go to buy 
 me a necktie a big, fine vun? ' I told him vere 
 iss Rosenstein's store, unt maybe he iss dere 
 now!" 
 
 Gordonsky groaned. "The gonof!" he mut- 
 tered. "Not only a new suit but a necktie he 
 must buy out of my money! Come," he said 
 to the rabbi, "it is better we hurry before he 
 spends it all I" 
 
 They hastened to Rosenstein's store. Yes, 
 the schnorrer had been there. 
 
 * ' A purple necktie he bought ah, yes chust 
 like der chentleman hass got on," said Mr.
 
 26 With the Best Intention 
 
 Rosenstein, pointing to the rabbi's necktie. 
 "Unt he wrote on a paper vot it cost." 
 
 "Did he say where he was going ?" asked the 
 detective. 
 
 "No. He ask me vare could he buy a nice 
 vatch-chain, unt I said Levine's on Essex Street 
 iss cheap unt reliable, but I don't know if he 
 hass go dere!" 
 
 "A watch-chain!" groaned Gordonsky when 
 this was translated to him. "The gonof! The 
 liar! He will buy a house yet!" 
 
 Yes! He had been at Levine's! He had 
 bought the heaviest, flashiest, imitation gold 
 chain in the store. 
 
 "Ask him how much it cost," said Gordon- 
 sky. "Two dollars? Four rubles? AchGott! 
 I kill him when I get him. ' ' 
 
 "Der chentleman," explained Mr. Levine, 
 "wrote down the price on paper." 
 
 They found even further trace of the schnor- 
 rer. They learned, in the course of fifteen min- 
 utes ' investigation, that he had bought himself 
 a gold-headed cane, a red silk handkerchief, 
 and a pair of shoes. And then he seemed to 
 have dropped out of existence. 
 
 "I guess we can't do any more to-night," said 
 the detective. "You'd better come back to the
 
 The Schnorrer's Arrival 27 
 
 station with me and give a good description of 
 the chap. We'll send out an alarm for him, 
 and I guess we'll find him easily." 
 
 They took Moishe home to his mother first 
 and then returned to the station house. When 
 they entered the station Gordonsky beheld his 
 friend Lapidowitz, in glorious array, with a 
 huge bundle under his arm, standing before the 
 sergeant's desk, protesting volubly against his 
 arrest. 
 
 "Gonof!" cried Gordonsky, springing for- 
 ward. "Give me my money!" 
 
 "There he is!" cried the schnorrer eagerly. 
 "He is my friend. Tell him, Gordonsky, how 
 I got lost!" 
 
 "Gonof " began Gordonsky, but Lapido- 
 witz was too excited to hear him. 
 
 "Could it be vorse in Russia?" he -cried. 
 "Comes a policeman and asks what I -have got 
 in my bundle. And I say clothes. And where 
 did I get my new things? And I say I buy 
 them. And where did I get the money? On 
 the street I find it like everyone else, I say. 
 And where do I live? I don't know, I say. 
 And then, just for nothing, here I am in prison. 
 Tell him, Gordonsky! Tell him, Mr. Rabbi! 
 I ain't a liar."
 
 28 With the Best Intention 
 
 "My money! Where is my money?" cried 
 Gordonsky. 
 
 "Your money?" asked Lapidowitz. "How 
 do I know?" 
 
 "Listen!" said the rabbi. He began to ex- 
 plain the situation to Lapidowitz. The schnor- 
 rer did not seem to understand at first, and the 
 rabbi began all over again. Then, slowly, the 
 schnorrer 's face turned very red. He under- 
 stood. He took from his pocket what was left 
 of the money he had found and, without a 
 word, handed it to Gordonsky, who quickly 
 counted it. 
 
 "Nearly fifty dollars are missing," said 
 he. 
 
 "How much of the money did you spend?" 
 asked the rabbi. The schnorrer drew from his 
 pocket the slip of paper. 
 
 "Thirty-nine dollars," he said, addressing 
 the sergeant as if to seek protection. The rabbi 
 grinned. He knew the schnorrer type, well. 
 
 "Has he any money?" he whispered to Gor- 
 donsky. 
 
 "Sure Ee has. The gonof! Don't you re- 
 member he changed a hundred and fifty ru- 
 bles?" 
 
 "That's so! Well, Mr. Lapidowitz, I'm
 
 Thie Schnorrer's Arrival 29 
 
 afraid you will have to give Mr. Gordonsky the 
 money you spent." 
 
 The schnorrer gazed appealingly at the ser- 
 geant. ' ' Yes, ' ' said the sergeant. * ' That 's the 
 law here.*' 
 
 Without a word Lapidowitz drew out his 
 store of American money and counted out 
 thirty-nine dollars, which he handed to Gordon- 
 sky. "Can I go now?" he asked the sergeant. 
 
 "Sure. You aren't arrested. The police- 
 man just thought you were a suspicious char- 
 acter. But you're all right." 
 
 As they passed through the doorway the 
 schnorrer turned to the sergeant. "In Russia 
 they don't rob prisoners," he said. 
 
 "Cheer up," said the rabbi, as they walked 
 homeward. "You have fine clothes, and Mr. 
 Gordonsky has a fine room ready for you. 
 There's nothing to worry so much about. 
 You '11 soon be earning money. ' ' 
 
 "I feel sick," said the schnorrer. 
 
 Gordonsky chuckled. "That's what you 
 saved your money for, didn't you? In case of 
 sickness?" 
 
 But there was no spirit of retort in Lapi- 
 dowitz. When they reached the little apart- 
 ment in the tenement that was thenceforth to
 
 30 With the Best Intention 
 
 be their home, they found Moishe, still up, wait- 
 ing for them. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad you found Mr. Lapido- 
 witz ! " he cried. * * Look, papa, what the police- 
 man gave me. ' ' He showed his father a bright 
 half-dollar. " There isn't any money in the 
 streets, and maybe you ain't free," he said, 
 "but they're nice people." 
 
 "Fine people," said his father with a grin. 
 "Hey, Lapidowitz?"
 
 II 
 
 An Apple Wasted 
 
 LAPIDOWITZ, the schnorrer, selected the 
 royal road to learning. His friend and 
 benefactor, Gordonsky, after a hard day 's work 
 in the tailor shop, spent his evenings at the 
 Beth Hamidrash, or study-house, of his syna- 
 gogue, where a dapper young man taught a 
 roomful of patriarchs to spell "cat," "dog," 
 and "rat." Gordonsky was ambitious to learn 
 English, but sometimes, during the lesson, he 
 fell asleep from sheer fatigue. To little Moishe 
 Gordonsky the road to learning was a dreary, 
 precipitous trail, barren of joy and devoid of 
 hope. The teacher whom he had adored had 
 abandoned both him and the school to get mar- 
 ried, and in her place had come a sandy-haired, 
 unprepossessing female, whose personality had 
 the effect of stirring up all that was rebellious 
 in Moishe 's nature. Lapidowitz spent most of 
 his time loafing about the coffee-houses, declar- 
 ing each night that he was making wonderful 
 
 31
 
 32 With the Best Intention 
 
 progress in English and that, as soon as he could 
 speak the language fluently, a lucrative posi- 
 tion was waiting for him. 
 
 He always called on the Gordonskys at sup- 
 per time. "What? Not through with dinner 
 yet?" he would say. "I just thought I'd drop 
 around to help Mrs. Gordonsky with the dishes. 
 She must be so tired." 
 
 Then during the meal he would insist that 
 his way of studying the language and the cus- 
 toms of this new land was far superior to Gor- 
 donsky 's, to which Gordonsky invariably replied 
 with a lengthy and detailed opinion of the 
 schnorrer's laziness, mendacity, and utter use- 
 lessness, during which the schnorrer ate. 
 
 "What do you expect will become of you?" 
 Gordonsky said one night. "You are the laz- 
 iest man on the East Side. All day long you 
 loaf around the coffee-houses, and then you 
 come and sponge on your friends for a meal. 
 How long do you think it will last?" 
 
 "Oh, a good while yet," Lapidowitz 
 answered, unabashed. "I have other friends 
 besides you." 
 
 "I wish you would stick to them," Gordon- 
 sky retorted. "I am tired of seeing your face. 
 I am sorry that I ever brought you over here
 
 An Apple Wasted 33 
 
 from Russia. Never did I get the slightest 
 thanks for it. Do you expect to be a schnorrer 
 all your life?" 
 
 "I am thinking of getting married,*' replied 
 Lapidowitz calmly, helping himself to another 
 plate of lentil soup. "Already I spoke to a 
 schatchen about it. Any lady at all I will take 
 so long as she has money or can support me 
 so that I can study." 
 
 " Marry? Study?" exclaimed Gordonsky. 
 "You must be crazy. No woman who had eyes 
 to look at you would dream of marrying you 
 if she was in her senses. And if she did, all 
 the studying you would ever do would be play- 
 ing cards in the coffee-house all day long." 
 
 "Let papa talk," said the schnorrer, after 
 winking gravely at little Moishe. "He thinks 
 he's the only smart man in the world, but some 
 day I'll show him." 
 
 There was quite a bond of affection between 
 the schnorrer and the little boy, due, probably, 
 to the fact that Lapidowitz always took the lad 
 seriously, and frequently had long talks with 
 him. But Moishe only grinned. The idea of 
 a woman marrying the schnorrer struck him as 
 being funny. 
 
 During the year that had elapsed since the
 
 34 With the Best Intention 
 
 Gordonskys arrived in New York from Eussia, 
 Moishe had acquired a stanch friend, a fluent 
 command of Ghetto English, and a perfect con- 
 fidence in himself. The timidity that is bred 
 in Jewish children in Eussian towns disappears 
 quickly in the streets of New York. 
 
 His friend and ally was Davy Levine. Moi- 
 she met Davy Levine in the school classroom 
 and asked him what he intended to he when he 
 grew up. 
 
 "A millionaire," said Davy. "What are 
 you?" 
 
 "President from the United States," said 
 Moishe. 
 
 "You can't," replied Davy. "Jews can't he 
 President. They got to be Krists." 
 
 "You're a liar," retorted Moishe, whereupon 
 Davy smote him one upon the nose. There 
 was a fight that delighted the hearts of half the 
 school that witnessed it, and then Davy and 
 Moishe, disheveled, both bleeding from the nose, 
 but throughly unabashed, were brought before 
 their teacher. They loved their teacher, and 
 when she had lectured them they felt ashamed 
 of themselves. So they shook hands and made 
 up, and after that they were good friends. 
 
 It is a curious relation that exists between an
 
 An Apple Wasted 35 
 
 East Side school-teacher and her Yiddish hope- 
 fuls. Fresh from the dark and dreary sur- 
 roundings of their Russian Ghetto, their teacher 
 is usually the first representative of all the 
 glories of this new land with whom they come 
 in close contact, and if she be a Gentile, as was 
 in those days usually the case, she typifies to 
 them the whole alien world that surrounds their 
 new Ghetto. If she be of a sympathetic nature, 
 with a heart responsive to the appeal of child- 
 hood, her influence is boundless. If, on the 
 other hand, she be one of that tribe of spinster- 
 hood to whom children are mysteries, she seems 
 to bring out the worst that is in them, and fre- 
 quently does no little mischief. 
 
 Moishe's first teacher was now gone, and in 
 her place was one whom the pupils always re- 
 ferred to formally as Miss Fraser. Her prede- 
 cessor had been "Teacher.'* And whether it 
 was merely the exuberance of boyish spirits 
 bubbling over after long repression, or whether 
 there was something in the personality of this 
 sharp-featured, snappy-tongued woman that 
 acted as an irritant upon the pupils, the class 
 became unruly, and the worst of them all was 
 Moishe Gordonsky. Day after day all the dev- 
 iltry in his nature came uppermost, and in the
 
 36 With the Best Intention 
 
 thousand and one indescribable ways that only 
 boys know, he almost drove the teacher to dis- 
 traction. But Miss Fraser was stubborn. 
 There was Scotch blood in her, and she felt con- 
 fident that in the end she would subdue that 
 brood. 
 
 Many a talk did Moishe and his friend Davy 
 have over this intolerable condition. 
 
 "What's the use?" Moishe would say. "A 
 feller can't have no more fun." 
 
 "She's a homely mug," Davy would answer. 
 "I wish Teacher was back." 
 
 "Teacher used to learn us something, but by 
 Miss Fraser I don't learn nothing and got to 
 work all the time." 
 
 Which, by the way, was not strictly true. As 
 a matter of fact, the class made better progress 
 under Miss Fraser than under her beloved 
 predecessor, but there was more friction. One 
 day when Moishe had dropped a piece of chew- 
 ing-gum down a boy's neck the teacher only 
 smiled. At the close of school, however, she 
 handed him a note. 
 
 "Give this to your father," she said. 
 
 Moishe had already forgotten the chewing- 
 gum incident, and that night, without a shadow 
 of suspicion, he gave the note to his father.
 
 An Apple Wasted 37 
 
 "What says it?" asked Gordonsky, turning 
 it over helplessly. 
 
 Moishe shook his head. "I tried to read it 
 but couldn't," he said. "It's something about 
 a sheep. Maybe she got one what she wants to 
 sell." 
 
 Gordonsky took the note with him to the Beth 
 Hamidrash that evening and, ere his lesson be- 
 gan, asked the instructor to read it to him. It 
 ran: 
 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 Your son is the black sheep of my class, and I 
 am unable to do anything with him. I wish you 
 would come to see me at your convenience. I think, 
 between us, we may induce him to devote more 
 thought to his studies and less to the pranks he is 
 always playing. 
 
 "Oy! Oy!" cried Gordonsky. "My son a 
 black sheep ! Only last week I asked him how 
 he was getting along in the school, and he said 
 ' Fine. ' And to play jokes I send him to school ! 
 To-night you excuse me, teacher? I got to go 
 straight home." 
 
 Home he went and, without a word of ex- 
 planation, administered to Moishe the treatment 
 advocated by Solomon.
 
 38 With the Best Intention 
 
 "What is the matter?" cried Mrs. Gordon- 
 sky and the schnorrer in one breath. 
 
 "A black sheep he is!" exclaimed the father. 
 "Instead of getting smart in school he gets 
 fresh, and the teacher writes me a letter." 
 
 "The Talmud says you should be eager to 
 acquire knowledge," said the schnorrer gently 
 to Moishe. 
 
 "I'm too busy to see the teacher," Gordon- 
 sky said to Lapidowitz ; ' ' suppose you go in the 
 morning and talk with her. Tell her I got to 
 work, but you only got to loaf all day." 
 
 "Sure I go," said the schnorrer. 
 
 So it happened that the next morning while 
 Miss Fraser 's class was struggling to under- 
 stand why six times two are twelve the door 
 opened and Lapidowitz, in shiny frock coat, en- 
 tered the classroom. The moment he beheld 
 Miss Fraser a look of profound admiration came 
 into his eyes. There was something in her 
 combative, self-assertive aura that appealed to 
 him. 
 
 "Moishe Gordonsky " he began. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Miss Fraser. "You're his 
 father. Well, if I were in your place I'd give 
 that boy a spanking every day for a week. All 
 this morning he has been making pinwheels out
 
 An Apple Wasted 39 
 
 of the pages of his arithmetic book, and he pays 
 no more attention to what I say than if I were 
 talking to the wall. He isn't a stupid boy by 
 any means. He's just full of mischief, and I 
 won't have any mischief in my classroom." 
 
 The schnorrer's eyes never left her face. 
 "When she paused for breath he said, with an 
 ingratiating smirk: 
 
 "I ain't his papa. I ain't married at all. 
 His papa got to work, so I came. I never got 
 married." 
 
 Miss Fraser stared at him. "Well, I guess 
 you can take my message to his father," she 
 said. "The boy needs severe discipline at 
 home." 
 
 She turned her back and resumed her talk to 
 the class. Lapidowitz hesitated, walked slowly 
 to the door, hesitated again, and, with a cough, 
 turned towards her. "No," he said, twirling 
 his silk hat between his fingers, "I never got 
 married. It's nice to have a home." 
 
 Then he sighed and walked out. After school 
 that day it chanced that Moishe and Davy on 
 their way home met Teacher and her husband. 
 They were delighted to behold her and over- 
 joyed when she presented them to her husband 
 as two of her favourite pupils.
 
 40 With the Best Intention 
 
 "And how are you getting on now?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Rotten," replied Moishe glibly. "Miss 
 Fraser's no good!" 
 
 "Oh, Moishe, you mustn't talk like that," 
 chided Teacher. 
 
 "She's always writing letters so I get lick- 
 ings," replied Moishe. 
 
 "And she's sassy," chimed in Davy. "She 
 ain't like you." 
 
 "Cheer up, boys," said Teacher's hus- 
 band, laughing. "Maybe she'll get married 
 soon and you'll have better luck with the next 
 one. ' ' 
 
 That night at supper Gordonsky asked the 
 schnorrer what the teacher had said. Lapi- 
 dowitz chuckled. 
 
 "She thought I was Moishe 's papa," he said. 
 "But I told her I wasn't married. How much 
 do teachers get for wages, Moishe?" 
 
 "Imbecile!" exclaimed Grordonsky. "Tell 
 me what she said about Moishe." 
 
 4 ' Oh, she says he isn't a stupid boy. She says 
 he makes fine pinwheels. Maybe, Moishe, if 
 we get some fancy paper you make pinwheels 
 and we sell them. What is the teacher's 
 name!"
 
 An Apple Wasted 41 
 
 "Did she say lie was a black sheep! " asked 
 Gordonsky. 
 
 "She didn't talk about sheep, " replied the 
 schnorrer. "She said Moishe is all right, only 
 he ain't stupid. She's a fine woman, Gordon- 
 sky. A good business face. In a store she'd 
 make a man rich. Where does she live, 
 Moishe?" 
 
 The next morning Moishe, on his way to 
 school, met the schnorrer. 
 
 "My, what a fine surprise," exclaimed Lapi- 
 dowitz. "Are you going to school! Here's a 
 nice apple you can give the teacher. Tell her 
 Mr. Lapidowitz says she's a fine woman." 
 
 "She's no good," said Moishe. "Teacher's 
 husband says she ought to get married and then 
 maybe we get a good teacher." 
 
 "Yes?" exclaimed Lapidowitz. He stroked 
 his beard thoughtfully. A sudden idea seized 
 Moishe. 
 
 "Maybe if you marry her," he cried, "we'll 
 get a new teacher. Will the schatchen let 
 you?" 
 
 "The schatchen has with school-teachers 
 nothing to do," explained the schnorrer, "but I 
 tell you what, Moishe, you're a smart boy. You 
 got a fine brain. You give her the apple and
 
 42 With the Best Intention 
 
 ask her if she likes me. Don't say I said it. 
 And then you tell me what she says. I'll wait 
 outside till you come out of school. ' ' 
 
 During the morning session Moishe, holding 
 a book before his face so that the teacher would 
 not see him, whispered to his friend Davy his 
 brilliant plan. 
 
 "Maybe if she goes for to marry him we get 
 a teacher what ain't a crank," he explained. 
 "He gave me a apple to give her." 
 
 "Moishe Gordonsky," cried Miss Fraser, 
 * ' step up to the blackboard and stand with your 
 back to the class for one hour. This whisper- 
 ing has to stop." 
 
 Moishe gritted his teeth and submitted to his 
 punishment, although every time that he felt 
 the teacher was not observing him he turned 
 his head stealthily and made faces at her. At 
 the noon recess the schnorrer, waiting for Moi- 
 she outside the school, beheld him come out 
 munching the apple. 
 
 "Just for spite I didn't give it to her," said 
 Moishe, explaining what had happened. 
 
 "Ts! Ts! Moishe, you shouldn't do it. 
 She's a fine lady a fine, smart, business brain 
 she got. Come, you keep the apple! I buy 
 another one what you give to her. Yes?"
 
 43 
 
 That afternoon Moishe approached the 
 teacher 's desk and laid down the apple. * ' From 
 Mr. Lapidowitz," he said. 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Miss Fraser, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "He's a schnorrer," explained Moishe. 
 
 "A schnorrer?" asked Miss Fraser, bewil- 
 dered. "What's that?" 
 
 Moishe shook his head. A schnorrer was a 
 schnorrer beyond that it was too difficult to 
 explain. But Davy's hand went up. 
 
 "I know what it is," he cried proudly. The 
 teacher looked at him. Davy rose, clasped his 
 hands behind his back, and in the monotonous 
 tone of a pupil reciting his lesson, "A schnor- 
 rer," said he, "is a bum what don't work and 
 ain't no good." 
 
 Fifty little heads solemnly nodded approval, 
 and fifty pairs of eyes gazed inquiringly at the 
 teacher as if to ask whether she now understood 
 what a schnorrer was. Miss Fraser, with crim- 
 son cheeks, turned to Moishe. 
 
 "Is that what he is the man that sent this 
 apple?" 
 
 "Sure," said Moishe, "a schnorrer." 
 
 "This is amazing," said Miss Fraser. "I
 
 44 With the Best Intention 
 
 can't understand it. Who is he? "Why did he 
 send me the apple?" 
 
 "He's gone by the schatchen for a wife," ex- 
 plained Moishe, "but he says you're nice and 
 maybe he'll marry you." 
 
 The classroom swam before the teacher's 
 eyes, amazement and indignation almost choked 
 her. Then she seized Moishe by the arm. 
 c 'Come," she said, "this is too much." She 
 led the frightened lad before the principal. 
 "Miss Robinson," she cried, "I really cannot 
 have this boy in my class any longer. He is 
 the worst boy in the school. I have just been 
 insulted in the most horrible manner." 
 
 Miss Robinson was over fifty an age at 
 which even a spinster obtains a wider view of 
 the bigness of life and its problems and she 
 had had much experience, both with pupils and 
 with teachers. She gazed at Moishe reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 "Do you know what an insult is!" 
 
 "No, missus," said Moishe. 
 
 "H'm! An insult is something wicked and 
 not nice. Do you think a little boy ought to say 
 something bad to his teacher?" 
 
 Moishe 's eyes opened wide in indignant pro-
 
 An Apple Wasted 45 
 
 test. "I didn't say nothing bad," he cried. 
 "I said something nice, and she grabbed me by 
 the arm." 
 
 "What did he say?" Miss Eobinson asked 
 the teacher. 
 
 Miss Fraser turned red. "I should dislike 
 very much to repeat it," she said firmly. 
 
 Miss Eobinson gazed at her. "You may re- 
 turn to your class," she said finally. "Leave 
 the boy here. I'll attend to the matter." 
 
 When Miss Fraser had departed, the princi- 
 pal smiled at Moishe. In that smile lay all that 
 was needed to establish firm and confidential 
 relations between the two. Moishe suddenly 
 realised that the principal was just like 
 Teacher, and his heart expanded. 
 
 "Now, tell me," said Miss Eobinson. "You 
 look like a bright boy and a good boy. Tell me 
 about it." 
 
 "Yes, missus," said Moishe. "Always Miss 
 Fraser sasses us and sends letters by my father 
 so's I get lickings. So I meets Teacher with 
 her man, and he says maybe if Miss Fraser gets 
 married we get a better teacher. So the schnor- 
 rer gets stuck on her and says he don't care for 
 what the schatchen says. So he gives me a
 
 46 With the Best Intention 
 
 apple what I give Miss Fraser and I says, 
 he says she's nice and she can get married, and 
 she gets mad. Honest, I didn't do nothin'!" 
 
 Miss Robinson's face hecame very red with 
 suppressed emotions. She turned her hack 
 upon Moishe and sat for quite a while trem- 
 hling, Moishe thought. Then she said: 
 
 1 'Go into Miss Wilkins's class. Tell her 
 I sent you there." 
 
 When he had departed Miss Robinson looked 
 out the window. Leaning against a lamp-post 
 on the opposite side of the street she saw a 
 tall, lank figure, frock coated and bearded, 
 smoking a cigarette and waiting with the pa- 
 tience of Job. 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed. Then she sat 
 down and wrote a note to Miss Fraser. 
 
 "I am deeply sorry that you were so an- 
 noyed," she wrote. "I have made the boy see 
 the enormity of his offence. He seems quite 
 bright, and I have advanced him to Miss Wil- 
 kins's class so that you will not be bothered with 
 hi any longer." 
 
 Then she looked out of the window again. 
 Lapidowitz was lighting another cigarette. 
 Miss Robinson sank into a chair and laughed 
 until the tears rolled down her face.
 
 On the opposite >ide of the street was a tall, lank figure, frock 
 i-uuted and bearded, waiting with the patience of Job
 
 m 
 
 Lapidowitz 's List 
 
 PEOPLE who possess the gift of expres- 
 sion usually like to talk, and when Lapi- 
 dowitz, the schnorrer, frowned and told Milken 
 not to bother him, Milken lit a cigar and calmly 
 seated himself at the table where Lapidowitz 
 sat making notes in a memorandum book. Mil- 
 ken liked Lapidowitz and knew that, presently, 
 Lapidowitz would tell him what it was all about, 
 for Lapidowitz was a glib talker and was rarely 
 quiet for any great length of time. 
 
 It was in Milken's coffee-house that this took 
 place. Lapidowitz, who lived entirely by his 
 wits, had almost exhausted his credit, and Mil- 
 ken had been looking forward to a convenient 
 opportunity to ask him when he intended to set- 
 tle. The little coffee-house was almost deserted 
 when Lapidowitz came in and, without seeming 
 to notice the proprietor, seated himself at a 
 table making entries in his note-book. Milken, 
 having nothing else to do, watched him in silence 
 for a while and then, approaching, asked: 
 
 47
 
 48 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Vot iss der matter, Lapidowitz? Counting 
 up how much you owe me?" 
 
 * ' Sh-h-h ! ' ' said Lapidowitz. " I 'm busy now. 
 Go avay!" 
 
 It was then that Milken seated himself at the 
 table and waited. He had not long to wait. 
 
 "I guess I go into bizness," said Lapidowitz 
 after a while. 
 
 "Vot kind of bizness?" asked Milken. 
 
 "A newspaper-stand. I know vare vun iss 
 vot I can get cheap. Only tventy-five dollars. ' ' 
 
 "Vare iss der tventy-five dollars coming out 
 uf ?" asked Milken. 
 
 Lapidowitz gravely opened his memorandum- 
 book and showed a list of names and figures. 
 "You see," he explained, "first unt last, al- 
 vays, I'm a bizness man. Here iss der friends 
 vot I got unt how much I am sure vot dey vill 
 lend." 
 
 "Am I on der list?" asked Milken anxiously. 
 
 Lapidowitz shook his head. "Not on dis 
 list," said he. "Here I only borrow to eat unt 
 to drink. For money I don't ask." 
 
 Milken felt relieved. "Who iss on der list?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Veil," said Lapidowitz, "I got Sammis 
 down for two dollars. He gave me a overcoat
 
 Lapidowitz 's List 49 
 
 last vinter. Unt by Gordonsky I can alvays 
 borrow a dollar unt a halluf. Six people I got 
 down for a dollar. By Rosenheim I'm alvays 
 good for two dollars. Nearly efryvare I can 
 get fifty cents. But Lubarsky iss der big vun. 
 Him I got down for ten dollars." 
 
 "Lubarsky?" asked Milken, incredulous. 
 
 ' ' Sure, ' ' said Lapidowitz stoutly. * ' Ain 't he 
 a rich vun?" 
 
 "Rich, yes," said Milken. "But so stingy. 
 Vot makes you t'ink he iss good for ten dol- 
 lars?" 
 
 "Ven I tell him I got him on der list for ten 
 dollars," vouchsafed Lapidowitz confidently, 
 "you can make a bet he lends me ten dollars. 
 Anyvay," he added, "v'y shouldn't he?" 
 
 To this Milken made no answer, but his re- 
 spect for Lapidowitz was greatly increased, for 
 he saw clearly that Lapidowitz was a business 
 man. He decided to say nothing about the little 
 account between them until Lapidowitz had pur- 
 chased his news-stand. Then, if the worst came 
 to the worst, he could take it out in papers. 
 
 "Let me know how comes it all out," he said, 
 as Lapidowitz departed. 
 
 The schnorrer found Lubarsky in his real- 
 estate office, reading the daily list of sales, mort-
 
 50 With the Best Intention 
 
 gages, and Us pendens. "Mister Lubarsky," 
 lie began, with an ingratiating smirk, "I haf a 
 good bizness proposition got. If I haf tventy- 
 five dollars I can buy a good newspaper-stand 
 vare I can make lots uf money. So, maybe, you 
 lend me ten dollars ? Yes ? ' ' 
 
 Lubarsky bit off the end of a cigar and gazed 
 intently at Lapidowitz. "Lend you ten dol- 
 lars ?" he asked slowly. "Are you meshuga 
 (crazy)?" 
 
 Lapidowitz drew himself up proudly. ' ' No, ' ' 
 he said, "I am not meshuga. But you are mes- 
 huga. Ven comes a man vot iss honest unt 
 asks you to do him a favour iss dot der vay to 
 talk? I say to myself, 'Lubarsky,' I say, 'isa 
 a honest man unt a good man. He knows der 
 Torah unt der Talmud by heart, unt he knows 
 all vot it says about charity to der poor. So,' 
 I says, 'Lubarsky sure vill lend me ten dol- 
 lars.' Now iss it all a mistake?" 
 
 "Yes," said Lubarsky. "It iss. Unt vot's 
 more, der qvicker you go avay der more hap- 
 pier I vill be." 
 
 Lapidowitz took off his overcoat and laid it 
 upon a chair. Then he carefully deposited his 
 hat and his cane on top of his overcoat. Then 
 he drew a chair close to Lubarsky and began to
 
 Lapidowitz 's List 51 
 
 talk. At first Lubarsky continued to read his 
 paper. Lapidowitz coaxed, wheedled, begged, 
 and implored. Lubarsky seemed to pay no heed 
 to him. Then Lapidowitz began to argue, to 
 expound, to lay down the law, and present the 
 whole matter from the broadest possible stand- 
 point. Lubarsky dropped his paper and looked 
 at him. Then Lapidowitz went into the possi- 
 bility of a really final and absolute refusal on 
 Lubarsky 's part, explained the consequences, 
 and exhausted the list of curses that might be 
 invoked upon Lubarsky 's head. Not only did 
 he exhaust the curses of the Talmud and the 
 Cabala and the long line of rabbinical experts 
 incursing, but added a few original ones that 
 made Lubarsky admire his imagination. 
 
 "Say," said Lubarsky, when he had finished, 
 "you are a good talker. For a loafer vot al- 
 vays vas too lazy to vork you really talk very 
 fine. But if you talk six t'ousand years, nefer 
 vould I lend you ten dollars. Because v'y? 
 Because dots der end uf der ten dollars. But I 
 got a idea. If you are a man vot I can trust I 
 gif you a chance to make ten dollars. See? 
 You scratch my back, I scratch yours. You get 
 der idea? You do me a favour unt I do vun for 
 you. Only I must trust you."
 
 52 With the Best Intention 
 
 With his arm extended ceilingward Lapido- 
 witz swore that he could he trusted. 
 
 "Listen," said Luharsky. "Mrs. Lubin vot 
 lives on Delancy Street she iss a vidder, you 
 know six times I ask her to marry me, unt al- 
 vays she says no. Because v'y? Because she 
 says she don 't care to get married no more. If 
 she gets married, she says I am der best vun 
 unt she marries me. But she guesses it 'a better 
 maybe not to marry nobody. Now, you go unt 
 haf a talk vit' her unt tell her it's better to get 
 married. If you talk haf so good vit* her as 
 you talk vit' me, ve get married right avay. 
 Den I gif you ten dollars unt maybe, somet'ing 
 extra. Iss it a bargain!" 
 
 It was a bargain. Although Lapidowitz had 
 never laid eyes on the woman, he did not even 
 pause to ask for a letter of introduction. Lapi- 
 dowitz always introduced himself. He 
 hastened to the widow Lubin. When he beheld 
 her he gasped. This beautiful dark-eyed crea- 
 ture marry Lubarsky? Perish the thought! 
 And she must be well-to-do ! The carpets were 
 of fine quality, and the furniture looked expen- 
 sive. 
 
 "Mrs. Lubin," said Lapidowitz, with his most 
 winning smile, "I haf come from Mister Lubar-
 
 'I haf come from Mister Lubarsky. Ve are great friends, unt 
 he is so anxious to get married vit' you"
 
 Lapidowitz 's List 53 
 
 sky. Ve are great friends, unt lie is so anx- 
 ious to get married vit' you dot he asks me to 
 see you unt tell him if he ain't right." 
 
 "He iss too fresh," said Mrs. Lubin, with 
 twinkling eyes. "But maybe if you sit down I 
 make a cup of tea for you!" 
 
 While Mrs. Lubin was preparing the tea, 
 Lapidowitz figured that the furnishings of the 
 sitting-room were worth at least $350 at a forced 
 sale. And then an idea came to him. 
 
 "Mrs. Lubin," he said, when she returned, 
 "v'en I go back to my friend Lubarsky I gif 
 him a t'ousand thanks for der opportunity 
 uf laying my eyes on such a face. Ach! I 
 am a lonely man! Ladies vit' beautiful faces 
 iss not for me!" And he sighed a heavy 
 sigh. 
 
 Mrs. Lubin was very sympathetic. "Don't 
 you ever go by der the-yater?" she asked. "I 
 hear der iss a lufly play in Grand Street vot iss 
 called 'Der Rose uf Sharon.' Maybe if you see 
 it der loneliness vill go avay. I haf never seen 
 it." 
 
 "Iss it too much if I ask you to go vit' me 
 unt ve forget our loneliness togedder?" asked 
 Lapidowitz audaciously. 
 
 Mrs. Lubin beamed upon him. "You haf der
 
 54 With the Best Intention 
 
 kindest heart uf any man I know," she said. 
 ' ' I am crazy to go. Ve go to-night. ' ' 
 
 Was there a ray of tenderness in the glance 
 that she bestowed upon Lapidowitz or did he 
 only imagine it ? At any rate, his heart beat a 
 trifle faster. He rose. 
 
 "I go now unt get der tickets," he said. 
 "To-night at eight o'clock I call for you." 
 
 As soon as he had reached the sidewalk 
 Lapidowitz consulted his list. "I guess Sam- 
 mis iss der nearest," he said. "He iss good 
 for two dollars." 
 
 "Sammis," he said, when he had located his 
 victim, "I haf der greatest need uf five dollars. 
 You are der friend uf my life. As der Talmud 
 says, 'He who gifs vit' a open heart ' " 
 
 "Never mind der Talmud," said Sammis, 
 drawing a greasy wallet from his pocket. 
 "Here iss two dollars unt not a cent more,, 
 Talmud or no Talmud. Unt don't come again 
 dis year." 
 
 From two other sources Lapidowitz borrowed 
 fifty cents, and at the appointed time, presented 
 himself at the Widow Lubin's with the theatre 
 tickets in his pocket. When he beheld her at- 
 tired in holiday raiment, he gazed at her speech- 
 less for a moment. Then,
 
 Lapidowitz 's List 55 
 
 "In your Shabbas clothes, lady," said he, 
 "you look like a angel." 
 
 "Oh, you men say such nice things!" replied 
 the widow. 
 
 During the climax of the performance her 
 hand, quite accidentally, fell upon that of 
 Lapidowitz, and the touch thrilled him. 
 
 "Maybe, to-morrow night," he whispered, 
 "you come unt have supper vit' me? Yes?" 
 
 "At Shinkman's? Vare alvays der roast 
 goose iss so good? Vit' pleasure!" responded 
 the widow. 
 
 Did Lapidowitz only imagine it or did sfce 
 actually bestow upon his hand the tiniest little 
 squeeze? At any rate, the following morning 
 Lapidowitz, after going over his list, called 
 upon Gordonsky, Cohen, Simkovitch, and Gul- 
 den and gathered two dollars and seventy-five 
 cents. With this money that evening he pur- 
 chased more roast goose than he had ever seen 
 before at one time in all his life. 
 
 As if roast goose were the sesame that opened 
 the flood-gates of her heart, the widow Lubin, 
 during this meal, confided to Lapidowitz the 
 story of her life and the yearnings of her inner- 
 most soul. Why is it that a square meal usu- 
 ally overcomes a woman's natural reticence?
 
 56 WitK the Best Intention 
 
 What is there in common between a sirloin 
 steak and a woman's soul-strings? If all the 
 sirloin steaks and broiled blue-fish that ever 
 were served to a man and woman, tete-a-tete, 
 were to reveal the confidences they overheard, 
 en passant, what an encyclopedia of feminine 
 psychology it would make! 
 
 These, however, are only the speculations of 
 the narrator. They did not enter Lapidowitz's 
 head. Lapidowitz, that afternoon, had learned 
 that the late Mr. Lubin had left his widow two 
 tenement houses, and tenement houses inter- 
 ested Lapidowitz more than philosophy. 
 
 "You like Mister Lubarsky?" he asked sud- 
 denly. 
 
 The widow laid down the breast-bone of a 
 goose and looked straight into Lapidowitz's 
 eyes. "I hate him!" she said. 
 
 Lapidowitz was happy. "Listen, Mrs. Lu- 
 bin Esther, dot iss your name, ain'd it? Gor- 
 donsky told me he seen it on a mortgage vunce ! 
 Dere iss somet'ing I vould like to say." 
 
 "Not to-night, Mr. Lapidowitz," said the 
 widow hastily. * ' Not to-night. Pl-e-e-e-ease ! ' ' 
 (Don't all women do that well!) "For my 
 sake. Day after to-morrow I go out for a car-
 
 Lapidowitz 's List 57 
 
 riage ride vit' yon if you like, unt den you can 
 tell me. But not to-night ! ' ' 
 
 There's another thing! How do they sense 
 it so far off? 
 
 "A carriage ride?" said Lapidowitz, slightly 
 dazed. 
 
 "Sure," said the widow eagerly. "Ve go 
 for a nice ride in der Central Park you unt 
 me, alone unt you tell me efryt'ing you know 
 about yourself!" 
 
 The beaming, melting, soulful glance that ac- 
 companied this declaration almost made Lapido- 
 witz 's heart stop working. 
 
 "Dot's a good idea!" he said. "At two 
 o'clock I come vit' a carriage to your house !" 
 
 "Not to my house," said the widow hastily. 
 "Come here in front uf Shinkman's unt 
 vait! You know how efrybody talks if a car- 
 riage comes to my house!" 
 
 They refused to let Lapidowitz have a car- 
 riage for less than seven dollars, and when 
 one o'clock came Lapidowitz had raised only 
 five dollars and had almost exhausted his list. 
 But time was flying and he could scurry 
 around no longer. At two o'clock he was sit- 
 ting in the carriage in front of Shinkman's.
 
 58 With the Best Intention 
 
 People stopped to look at him. Except in 
 cases of funerals and weddings, carriages rarely 
 stand for any length of time in front of houses 
 on the East Side. 
 
 The carriage waited nearly an hour. Then 
 Lapidowitz said to the driver, 
 
 "You vait here unt I go 'round der corner 
 to see vot keeps der lady." 
 
 "I'll drive ye around," said the driver 
 curtly. 
 
 So he drove "him around. And Mrs. Lubin 
 was not at home. 
 
 "Say," said the driver, "the longer I wait 
 the more it'll cost. Don't ye want to take that 
 drive around the park?" 
 
 "Alone?" asked Lapidowitz. "Vot's der 
 use! Vait a minute." 
 
 He consulted his list. He had exhausted 
 nearly all its possibilities excepting Lubarsky. 
 The ten dollars next to Lubar sky's name stood 
 out in monumental bigness. What could be 
 keeping the widow? An idea suddenly came to 
 him. He would need more money anyway. 
 He entered Shinkman's. 
 
 "If comes a lady to ask for me," said he, 
 "I come right back. Tell her to vait." And 
 to the driver. "To Mister Lubar sky's, the
 
 Lapidowitz's List 59 
 
 real-estater," he said, settling back comfort- 
 ably on the cushioned seat. 
 
 A red-haired, freckled-faced boy greeted him 
 in Lubar sky's office. "Mister Lubarsky ?" he 
 repeated. "Heain'd! Heissout!" 
 
 "Out vare?" asked Lapidowitz impatiently. 
 
 The boy looked at the office clock. "Vare he 
 iss now I don't know," he said. "Ten minutes 
 ago he was getting married by der rabbi's !" 
 
 Lapidowitz, a chill creeping down his spine, 
 stared at the lad. "Getting married V 9 he re- 
 peated. "Vif who?" 
 
 "Some vidow lady," said the boy. 
 
 Lapidowitz took off his hat and wiped the 
 perspiration from his brow. Then he fanned 
 himself with his hat and loosened his collar to 
 relieve the sensation of choking that had sud- 
 denly come over him. Then, "V'en comes back 
 Mister Lubarsky," he said, very slowly and der 
 liberately, "you tell him dot Mister Lapidowitz 
 vos here. Tint say dot Mister Lapidowitz says 
 dot Mister Lubarsky iss a loafer unt a swin- 
 dler!" 
 
 "Where to?" asked the driver, when Lapido- 
 witz had flung himself into the carriage. 
 
 "To Milken's coffee-house on Essex Street," 
 said Lapidowitz.
 
 60 With the Best Intention 
 
 A few minutes later he had his hands on 
 Milken's shoulders. "My friend, " he said 
 solemnly, "you know how I feel about you! 
 You know how nefer before I haf borrowed 
 money off'n you. You know vot says der Tal- 
 mud about " 
 
 "Nefer mind all dot," said Milken. "How 
 much iss der smallest?" 
 
 "T'ree dollars I got to haf!" said Lapido- 
 witz. 
 
 Milken went to the cash-drawer and took out 
 three dollars. "I don't see," he remarked sar- 
 castically, "v'y you come to me for free dol- 
 lars so long as you haf on der list a rich man 
 like Lubarsky." 
 
 "Lubarsky," said Lapidowitz haughtily, "iss 
 off der list!"
 
 IV 
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 
 
 LAPIDOWITZ sat in Milken's coffee-house 
 waiting for something to turn up. Lapid- 
 owitz was "on his uppers." That is hardly 
 what you would call a pretty figure of speech, 
 but it conveys an accurate and comprehensive 
 idea of Lapidowitz's condition. His credit 
 among his friends was exhausted even Milken 
 was beginning to grumble at the amount of 
 coffee and cake that Lapidowitz's unpaid ac- 
 count represented and the schnorrer, plunged 
 in gloom, was at last face to face with the pain- 
 ful necessity of going to work. 
 
 Then Janowski, the coal-dealer, entered the 
 coffee-house, nodded smilingly to Lapidowitz, 
 and seated himself at the opposite side of the 
 room. Janowski wore a diamond scarf-pin and 
 jingled when he walked. Lapidowitz hated 
 Janowski. He hated his unvarying air of pros- 
 perity. He hated the clink of the loose change 
 that Janowski carried in every pocket He 
 
 61
 
 62 With the Best Intention 
 
 hated Janowski's calmness, his smile, his air 
 of confidence. The secret of his bitter detesta- 
 tion was that he owed Janowski two dollars, 
 had owed them for two months, and had never 
 since been able to borrow any more. 
 
 So Lapidowitz would sit and glare at Janow- 
 ski, and his thoughts would run like this : 
 
 * ' Curses on my luck 1 Why should I be poor 
 and he be rich? I am smarter than he is, and 
 superior to him in every way, yet here I am with 
 no better prospect than to go to work in a tailor 
 shop, while he does not know what to do with 
 all the money he makes. Curses on my luck!" 
 
 Janowski, blissfully ignorant of the injustice 
 of fate, sipped his coffee in peace. When he 
 had finished he drew from his inside pocket a 
 thick roll of bills, paid for his coffee, and swept 
 the change into his trousers pockets. Then, 
 with a nod to Lapidowitz and a pleasant smile, 
 he walked, jingling as he went, out of the place. 
 
 Lapidowitz sighed, lit a fresh cigarette, and 
 waited for something to turn up. 
 
 "Wait wait patiently," says the Talmud, 
 "and something is sure to turn up." You may 
 be pleased, or you may be disappointed, but, 
 nevertheless, something will turn up. Lapido- 
 witz waited waited patiently, and one after-
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 63 
 
 noon something turned up. It was the unex- 
 pected. The unexpected comes to all of us once 
 or twice in a lifetime, and, usually, we bungle it. 
 The postman brought Lapidowitz a letter 
 from Russia. It ran: 
 
 Worthy Sir: 
 
 My dear uncle Isidore Malakoff died in Minsk last 
 week. In his will he left all his silverware to Mrs. 
 Raviner, his former housekeeper. We found that 
 Mrs. Raviner died many years ago and that you are 
 her only living relative. So please let me know what 
 you wish done with the silverware. We can send it 
 to you if you will pay for the transportation or we 
 can sell it here at the best price and send you the 
 money. 
 
 With the highest esteem, yours, 
 
 SAMUEL MALAKOFF. 
 
 For a full five minutes Lapidowitz sat trans- 
 ported to the supreme heights of bliss. At last 
 fate had recognised his merits and was prepared 
 to do him justice. Then, slowly, he came down 
 to earth, and began to calculate. He had never 
 in his life heard of Malakoff, but he remem- 
 bered, dimly, that either his mother or his 
 father had had an aunt named Raviner whom, 
 to the best of his recollection, he had never seen. 
 
 But the silverware how much was it worth?
 
 64 With the Best Intention 
 
 Was it one of those wonderful collections, the 
 accumulation of generations, that, he so fre- 
 quently read in the newspapers, brought fabu- 
 lous prices at sales? Or no, it would never 
 do to speculate upon the possibility of a disap- 
 pointment. It was surely worth five hundred 
 dollars. No silverware worth leaving in a will 
 could possibly be worth less. Two hundred 
 dollars, anyway and even one hundred dollars 
 would be sufficient to change the whole current 
 of his life. 
 
 His dream of a year had been to open an ac- 
 count in Goldsinger's bank on Grand Street 
 and sign checks with a long, heavy flourish to 
 his signature. 
 
 But Eussia was far off, and several weeks 
 must elapse before he could receive his inheri- 
 tance. Lapidowitz hastily made a list of his 
 friends who would be likely to advance him 
 some money on the strength of his new pros- 
 pects. It seemed easy. How could any one 
 refuse money to a man who had inherited a col- 
 lection of silverware? He set forth bravely 
 and called upon Gordonsky. 
 
 "Not one cent," said Gordonsky. 
 
 "But the silverware is worth a thousand dol- 
 lars," said Lapidowitz.
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 65 
 
 "I don't care if it's worth a million," replied 
 Gordonsky. "For two years I have lent you 
 money. When you hegin to pay, then we will 
 talk. Not before. Better go to work." 
 
 He tried Lubarsky. Lubarsky read the let- 
 ter carefully. 
 
 "Have you ever seen this silverware?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Sure I have," said Lapidowitz glibly. 
 * ' The way it shines is wonderful. It 's the finest 
 collection of silverware in Russia." 
 
 "All right," said Lubarsky. "Get it over to 
 New York and I will look at it. Then we will 
 talk business." 
 
 Lapidowitz tried nearly every one he knew, 
 and finally returned to Milken's coffee-house, 
 dejected. 
 
 * ' Fools ! " he exclaimed. * ' When I had noth- 
 ing they made no fuss about lending me a few 
 dollars. Now that I am rich they will not 
 lend me a penny. But how they will come 
 crawling around when I come into my inherit- 
 ance." 
 
 And at that moment Janowski came jingling 
 into the coffee-house, nodded smilingly to Lapi- 
 dowitz, and seated himself at the opposite side 
 of the room. Lapidowitz gazed at him for a
 
 66 With the Best Intention 
 
 long time. Then he crossed the room and sat 
 down at Janowski's table. 
 
 "Mr. Janowski," he began, "I have a busi- 
 ness proposition." 
 
 "Indeed?" said Janowski. "You owe me 
 two dollars." 
 
 Lapidowitz cast a look of reproach upon him. 
 "I am surprised," he said, "that a big man like 
 you should talk of such little things." 
 
 "Business," said Janowski, "is all little 
 things. You owe me two dollars for a long 
 time. ' ' 
 
 Without a word Lapidowitz handed him the 
 letter he had received. 
 
 "Who is this Samuel Malakoff?" asked Ja- 
 nowski. 
 
 "Samuel Malakoff!" repeated Lapidowitz 
 airily. "Why, he's the nephew of the famous 
 silverware collector old Malakoff. Did you 
 never hear of him!" 
 
 Janowski read the letter again and handed it 
 back to the schnorrer. "Well, what is your 
 proposition?" he asked. 
 
 "Mr. Janowski," said Lapidowitz, in his most 
 earnest tone, "listen to me. I am going to write 
 to Russia to sell the collection and send me the 
 money. In a few weeks I will be rich and have
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 67 
 
 an account in Goldsinger's bank. But now I 
 need some money. If I had money now I could 
 buy myself some nice clothes. Then I could 
 get a job by Mr. Rosen the fire insurance man, 
 who says I'm a great fellow for going out and 
 getting fire insurance. But he won't give me a 
 job unless I have nice clothes. A bum, he says, 
 is no use in the insurance business. So if you 
 will let me have fifty dollars now forty dollars 
 thirty would be enough to-morrow I get 
 the job and so soon as the money comes 
 over I will give you a check on Goldsinger's 
 bank." 
 
 Janowsld fumbled in his pockets for a while 
 and drew out a sheet of blank paper which he 
 handed to Lapidowitz. 
 
 " Write first," he said, " *I owe Mr. Janow- 
 ski two dollars,' and put your name under it. 
 Then we talk business." 
 
 Lapidowitz, in haughty silence, wrote the 
 statement and signed it. 
 
 "Now," said Janowski, handing Lapidowitz 
 another sheet of paper, "write, 'I owe Mr. Ja- 
 nowski thirty dollars which I promise honestly 
 to give him a check for as soon as I get money 
 from Russia.' " 
 
 Lapidowitz joyfully wrote this promise and,
 
 68 With the Best Intention 
 
 handing it to Janowski, received from him 
 thirty dollars. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Lapidowitz," said Janowski, 
 "you're a smart man, and I'd like to see you 
 get along, only, when it comes to business, they 
 all say you borrow but don't pay. What they 
 say, though, makes no difference to me. All I 
 know is you owe me two dollars for a long time, 
 and you never paid a cent. This time, when 
 you get your money in the bank, you pay. If 
 you don't pay don't worry. I will get the 
 money. I am a smart man, too." 
 
 The next day Lapidowitz issued forth in a 
 wonderfully brilliant silk hat, a new Prince 
 Isaac coat, new shoes, a new scarf, a heavy 
 watch-chain, and a gorgeous scarf-pin. How 
 he managed to do it all on thirty dollars was 
 little short of miraculous. He applied to Rosen 
 for the promised position. 
 
 A few days later he handed Milken one of his 
 new cards. "Abraham Lapidowitz, Fire Insur- 
 ance Agent," it read. 
 
 Milken gazed at him in awe. "You will be 
 getting rich," he said. 
 
 "Sure," said Lapidowitz. "And if you lend 
 me two dollars you are sure of getting back 
 everything I owe you soon."
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 69 
 
 Milken lent him the two dollars, and that was 
 the last that Milken saw of him for three weeks. 
 That very day Lapidowitz received a draft 
 from Eussia for forty-two dollars. The accom- 
 panying letter, declaring that "I obtained a 
 good price for the silverware," he tore into a 
 hundred bits. All that evening he sat in his 
 room bewailing his luck. 
 
 The next day he cashed the draft at Gold- 
 singer's bank and opened an account. Then 
 he devoted himself to soliciting fire insurance 
 business. 
 
 After a few days it seemed to Lapidowitz as 
 if every house on the East Side had been in- 
 sured from time immemorial and that all the 
 insurance policies still had a thousand years to 
 run. Nobody wanted to be insured. Every 
 man he approached carried more insurance than 
 he had any use for. The very bottom seemed 
 to have dropped out of the insurance business. 
 And gradually his forty-two dollar inheritance 
 dwindled to thirty-two. Several times he had 
 received a postal-card from Janowski asking 
 him whether he had received his money from 
 Eussia, but he paid no heed to any of them. 
 Then one day Eosen said to him : 
 
 "That fellow Janowski has bought a new
 
 70 With the Best Intention 
 
 house. Maybe you can get him to insure. He 
 don't like me, so it's no use if I go." 
 
 Lapidowitz took a long walk to think it over. 
 Several times he took his check-book from 
 his pocket and studied the figures on the 
 stubs. Then, suddenly, a broad grin illumi- 
 nating his face, he strode into Janowski's 
 office. 
 
 There was an outer office where a red-haired, 
 red-eyed, and red-nosed clerk sat leaning 
 against a wooden partition. 
 
 "I would like to see Mr. Janowski," said 
 Lapidowitz. The clerk winked and, with his 
 thumb, indicated the door that led through the 
 partition. In the compartment beyond, Lapi- 
 dowitz found Janowski seated at a desk that 
 stood against the partition. 
 
 "Hello, Lapidowitz, ' > exclaimed Janowski 
 cordially. "It is a great pleasure. What a 
 warm day it is ! " 
 
 Lapidowitz deposited his silk hat upon a 
 bookcase and, seating himself beside the desk, 
 plunged into business. * ' I have been so terribly 
 busy," he said, "or I would have come long be- 
 fore. Because I like you very much, Mr. Ja- 
 nowski. I heard to-day that you have bought 
 a new house. So I came to see if you wouldn't
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 71 
 
 like some fire insurance. You know it's terrible 
 the way houses burn down if there's a fire." 
 
 "Sure," said Janowski, nodding, "but busi- 
 ness before pleasure. Thirty dollars you owe 
 me and two dollars, and Mr. Goldsinger says 
 you have an account in the bank. So first comes 
 a check. Then we talk fire insurance." 
 
 "A check?" repeated Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Sure. Didn't you give a promise? Ain't 
 you a man of your word? Sure you are. A 
 check for thirty-two dollars, and then we talk 
 fire insurance. And we talk big fire insurance, 
 too, because I have been thinking about it for 
 two days." 
 
 Lapidowitz swallowed several lumps that 
 clustered in his throat. 
 
 "The silverware " he began. 
 
 Janowski waved his hand. 
 
 "Never mind about the silverware. You got 
 forty-two dollars for it. Ain't it? I didn't 
 think it would bring so much. ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz gazed at him, speechless. Then, 
 desperately, he drew out his check-book and 
 wrote out a check for thirty dollars. "I was 
 keeping it for a rainy day," he said, "but I am 
 an honest man, and I promised to pay it. Only 
 the two dollars I will owe you for a while."
 
 72 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Sure," said Janowski, good-naturedly. 
 "As long as you are a man of your word I 
 know I will get my two dollars. Besides, I told 
 you I was a very smart man." 
 
 He indorsed the check and, with great care, 
 thrust it into one of the pigeonholes of his desk. 
 Then, with a portentous cough, he turned to 
 Lapidowitz. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Lapidowitz, I like you. Why, 
 I don't know. If I believe what every one says 
 about you your best friends, too you are no 
 good at all. And, what's more, I believe it, too. 
 You borrow from everybody and never pay, 
 and you won't let anybody help you because 
 you hate to work. Now I know a nice place 
 where you can get a good job. A friend of mine 
 has a clothing-house " 
 
 "Mr. Janowski," said Lapidowitz haughtily, 
 "I am a fire insurance agent. Let us talk busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "Sure," said Janowski. "Now we talk fire 
 insurance. But I only just want to say that 
 when you make up your mind to do some real 
 work and not be a schnorrer living on your 
 friends, I will be glad to help you." 
 
 He looked at his watch. Then he grinned. 
 
 "Mr. Lapidowitz," he said, "I paid twenty-
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 73 
 
 five thousand dollars for the house I bought. 
 There is a mortgage on it for twenty-one thou- 
 sand dollars and a second mortgage for two 
 thousand dollars, and, would you "believe it, that 
 house is insured for twenty-eight thousand dol- 
 lars, and I'm paying nearly as much for the 
 insurance as I'm getting out of rents, because 
 only one family lives in the house. ' ' 
 
 For a second Lapidowitz tried to overcome 
 the choking sensation that suddenly seized him. 
 "Swindler!" he cried. "Give me hack my 
 check." 
 
 "Your check?" said Janowski in surprise. 
 "My check, you mean. Oh, yes. I know what 
 you want." 
 
 He drew from his pocket Lapidowitz 's prom- 
 ise to pay back the thirty dollars and handed it 
 to him. Lapidowitz tore it into shreds. 
 
 "Never mind, Mr. Janowski," he said. "I 
 just go to the bank and tell them not to pay the 
 check. So you see you ain't so smart, after 
 all." 
 
 Janowski grinned. 
 
 "Come here," he said, "and look where I put 
 your check." 
 
 Lapidowitz, amazed, leaned forward and 
 gazed into the pigeonhole where he had seen
 
 74 With the Best Intention 
 
 Janowski place the check. He could see day- 
 light. In the back of the compartment was a 
 hole that extended clear through the partition. 
 
 " Sometimes," said Janowski, even before 
 Lapidowitz's mind had grasped the full signifi- 
 cance of the situation, "come swindlers. So I 
 put the check through the hole, and I guess by 
 this time my clerk is at the bank to get the 
 money. ' ' 
 
 Then, with an exclamation of rage, Lapido- 
 witz, forgetting even his hat, rushed out of the 
 place. 
 
 "Remember," Janowski called after him, "I 
 like you." 
 
 But Lapidowitz did not hear. He ran all the 
 way to the bank. 
 
 "A check?" the cashier said. "Wait a 
 minute. Yes. Sure. Payable to Janowski. 
 Thirty dollars. His clerk was just in to cash 
 it." 
 
 "Then it's too late?" asked Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Too late? For what?" 
 
 But Lapidowitz did not answer. Muttering 
 imprecations upon the bank, upon checks, and 
 upon Janowski, he retraced his steps to the 
 coal-dealer's office where he had left his hat. 
 The red-haired, red-eyed, and red-nosed clerk
 
 "From Him That Hath Not" 75 
 
 sat leaning against the wooden partition. 
 When he beheld Lapidowitz he smiled. 
 
 ' 'Mr. Janowski has just went out," he said 
 with a grin. 
 
 "I come for my hat," said Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Oh, your hat. That was very funny about 
 your hat. ' ' 
 
 The clerk paused and laughed, and Lapido- 
 witz, a sense of impending calamity sending 
 chills down his spine, stared at him. 
 
 "Bight after you ran out comes an old- 
 clothes man and asks Mr. Janowski if he has 
 any old hats to sell. So Mr. Janowski looks 
 around his office and sees a silk hat. And he 
 sells it for a dollar. After the man has went 
 Mr. Janowski says to me, 'I have made a terri- 
 ble mistake,' he says. *I sold Mr. Lapidowitz 's 
 hat, thinking it was mine ! ' So then he says, as 
 long as it's his fault, he is willing to lose by it. 
 So he gives me this paper to give you." 
 
 Whereupon the clerk handed Lapidowitz the 
 I. 0. U. for two dollars that he had given to 
 Janowski. 
 
 Lapidowitz stared at him. Several times his 
 lips moved as if he were about to speak. Once 
 or twice his arm moved as if he were contem- 
 plating assault upon the red-haired clerk. Fi-
 
 76 With the Best Intention 
 
 nally he sighed and walked slowly out of the 
 place. When he reached his room he found a 
 note from Janowski. 
 
 "The man I spoke ahout who has got a job 
 for yon,'* it ran, "is Harris, who keeps the 
 clothing- store on Rivington Street, near Es- 
 sex."
 
 Lapidowitz Lapses 
 
 GORDONSKY, coming home unexpectedly 
 one afternoon, caught Moishe, his four- 
 teen-year-old offspring, smoking a cigarette. 
 That night there was wailing and lamentation 
 in the household of Gordonsky. Moishe 's 
 mother wept because her only child was on the 
 highroad to perdition. 
 
 Gordonsky groaned in spirit to think that the 
 idol of his heart had fallen into the ways of 
 Goyim, because, in those days, cigarette-smok- 
 ing had not taken such strong hold upon the 
 chosen people of the East Side. Even Lapido- 
 witz, the schnorrer, dropping in for a free even- 
 ing meal, clucked many a reproachful "Ts! 
 Ts ! " at Moishe and shook his head quite sadly 
 over the lad's depravity. Moishe alone wailed 
 for purely material reasons. 
 
 The matter was discussed for several days 
 from every conceivable standpoint. Gordon- 
 sky consulted the rabbi and the sweatshop boss 
 
 77
 
 78 With the Best Intention 
 
 for whom he worked. And the upshot of it all 
 was the decision, concurred in by all, that 
 Moishe had completed his education and was 
 fully equipped for work. 
 
 "School," said Gordonsky, "is not a place 
 for cigarette-smokers." 
 
 Thus it happened that Moishe set forth one 
 day to seek employment, and ere the day was 
 done he had found it. Mandelbaum & Kaplan, 
 Importers and Dealers in Wines, Liquors, and 
 Spirits of All Kinds, covenanted with Moishe 
 to accept his services as office-boy at the weekly 
 wage of three dollars. 
 
 "They're funny people," said Moishe, after 
 a few days. "Mr. Mandelbaum is a great, big 
 man and never says a word, and Mr. Kaplan is 
 a little bit of a man and talks all the time." 
 
 "What do you have to do?" asked Lapido- 
 witz, who, as usual, had dropped in for supper. 
 
 "I sit in the office and paste labels on the 
 bottles. They make all kinds of things 
 French brandy and wine and German wine and 
 Cream de Mint oh, everything they make over 
 in the factory in Hoboken. And when anybody 
 calls I got to go in and tell one of the bosses. 
 Also I get the apples and pears for the book- 
 keeper, and sometimes I get a penny extra."
 
 Lapidowitz Lapses 79 
 
 "And the bookkeeper," asked Lapidowitz, 
 "how much does he get?" 
 
 ' ' It ain 't a he. It 's a she, ' ' explained Moishe. 
 "Miss Lazinsky her name is. She's terrible 
 homely with a glass eye, but she gets twenty- 
 five dollars a week." 
 
 "Twenty-five dollars?" repeated Lapidowitz 
 incredulously. "A woman with a glass eye 
 earns so much? It's a great country, ain't it, 
 Gordonsky?" 
 
 Gordonsky smiled. "Maybe some day you 
 might marry her and never have to work," he 
 said maliciously. 
 
 The schnorrer shook his head. "With a 
 glass eye never! But if I could get a nice job 
 in a wine and liquor business I think I would 
 be a big success." 
 
 "A great success in drinking up the business, 
 maybe," said Gordonsky dryly. "You and 
 work will never live in the same town." 
 
 At the end of the week Moishe came home, 
 elated. "Mr. Kaplan," he said to Lapidowitz, 
 ' ' says you should come by the office on Monday, 
 and maybe he got a job for you." 
 
 "For me?" exclaimed the schnorrer. 
 
 Moishe nodded vigorously. "I heard Mr. 
 Mandelbaum say for why in blazes somebody
 
 80 With the Best Intention 
 
 didn't keep the stock-room in order, and Mr. 
 Kaplan says every time*he gets a man he drinks 
 up all the bottles and don't do nothing, so he 
 gave it up for a bad job, only it's a pity he 
 couldn't find a good man because it's a chance 
 for him to work his way up in the business, and 
 I says to him, 'Mr. Kaplan,' I says, 'I know a 
 man what would like a good job in the wine and 
 liquor business,' and he says, 'What's his 
 name?' and I says, 'Mr. Lapidowitz, ' and he 
 says, 'For heaven's sake send him around.' ' 
 
 On the following Monday morning Mr. Man- 
 delbaum and Mr. Kaplan were regaled with 
 a view of Lapidowitz. Mr. Mandelbaum 
 promptly retreated to an inner office. Mr. 
 Kaplan remained to gaze wonderingly upon the 
 tall, imposing figure, long bearded and dignified 
 of mien, silk-hatted and frock-coated, that 
 stood before him. Finally he scratched his 
 head. 
 
 "We only intended to pay six dollars a 
 week," he said, in English. 
 
 "Dot's enough for a commencer," said La- 
 pidowitz, with a smirk. 
 
 And then, with great swiftness, Mr. Kaplan 
 realised what he had to deal with. A schnorrer, 
 you see, is, after all, a schnorrer, and the breed
 
 Lapidowitz Lapses 81 
 
 is quickly recognised. Mr. Kaplan's manner 
 instantly changed. 
 
 ' ' All right, ' ' he said, in Yiddish. ' ' Take that 
 pot off your head, hang up your coat, and go 
 into the stock-room. Clean all the dust off the 
 bottles, and I'll be in later to tell you what to 
 do." 
 
 And Lapidowitz, bowing amiably to this rec- 
 ognition of his status, entered upon his labours. 
 Once he came into the outer office and gazed 
 for a long time upon the face of a middle-aged 
 woman who sat poring over a huge ledger. 
 
 "Is that the bookkeeper?" he whispered to 
 Moishe. The lad nodded. 
 
 Lapidowitz shuddered. "It pains me to look 
 at her, ' ' he said. 
 
 The duties of Lapidowitz required the ex- 
 penditure of but little intellectual effort. For 
 three days he dusted shelves, rearranged bot- 
 tles, and ran errands for Mr. Kaplan. Mr. 
 Mandelbaum seemed unaware of his existence. 
 Then it chanced that business called Mr. Man- 
 delbaum to Schenectady. A customer in that 
 town insisted upon greater variety in the colour 
 of Creme de Menthe, promising quite a large 
 order if Mandelbaum & Kaplan would produce 
 a blue-, violet-, and an orange-hued species.
 
 82 With the Best Intention 
 
 And he had hardly hoarded his train when Mr. 
 Kaplan was seized with an attack of mumps. 
 The administration of the firm's business fell 
 upon the shoulders of Moishe, Lapidowitz, and 
 the bookkeeper with the glass eye. 
 
 Lapidowitz rose to the occasion. Instead of 
 confining himself to the stock-room, he estab- 
 lished himself at Mr. Kaplan's desk, and read 
 the newspapers. He sent Moishe on errands, 
 and the lad obeyed promptly. Ever and anon 
 he would stare wonderingly at Miss Lazinsky, 
 the bookkeeper, and then would shake his head. 
 Once he spoke to her. He told her that it looked 
 like rain. Miss Lazinsky looked up from her 
 book and surveyed Lapidowitz calmly from 
 head to foot. And then she smiled and re- 
 sumed her reading. Lapidowitz whistled to 
 keep up his spirits, and asked Moishe to run out 
 for an evening newspaper. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, Lapidowitz 's 
 weather forecast came true. It rained. It 
 rained all that night and all the next day a 
 steady, depressing, and dreary downpour that 
 seemed to rob life of all its joy and fill the soul 
 with gloomy foreboding. 
 
 Lapidowitz was wet to the skin when he came 
 to the store that next morning. The endless
 
 Lapidowitz Lapses 83 
 
 rows of bottles in the stock-room with their 
 multi-coloured contents stretched before him 
 with a new significance. In justice to Lapido- 
 witz this must be made clear: he was not a 
 drinking man, and liquor held no temptation 
 for him. But he was cold and wet, and it al- 
 most seemed as if the bottles held out %irms 
 promising warmth. He selected one in which 
 the cork sat loosely, and drank from it a draft 
 that set his blood aglow and all his nerves 
 tingling. Then, stroking his beard, he saun- 
 tered into the outer office and leaned noncha- 
 lantly against Miss Lazinsky's desk. 
 
 "I told you it would rain," he said. Miss 
 Lazinsky did not even look up. But, unabashed, 
 Lapidowitz fell into a cheerful monologue in 
 the course of which it occurred to him that a 
 glass eye was not a whit unbecoming to beauty 
 and that twenty-five dollars a week covered a 
 multitude of shortcomings. The sky grew 
 brighter and brighter, and Lapidowitz, mur- 
 muring an apology, returned to the stock-room 
 and opened a bottle that was completely envel- 
 oped in gold foil. He brought it to the book- 
 keeper's desk and urged her to drink. 
 
 " Please go away," she said. "I am busy, 
 and you are bothering me."
 
 84 With the Best Intention 
 
 Lapidowitz returned to the stock-room and 
 gazed upon the bottles. He was happy. The 
 vigour and brilliancy of his own thoughts im- 
 pressed him profoundly. The problems of life 
 that had long been puzzling him seemed sud- 
 denly to be amazingly simple. What fools 
 Mandelbaum & Kaplan were to sell their wares ! 
 
 I often wonder what the Vintners buy 
 One-half so precious as the stuff they sell ! 
 
 Heigh-ho ! It was a great world ! And peo- 
 ple were foolish to worry. Lapidowitz strolled 
 into the outer office again and began to hum a 
 tune. Then, suddenly, it occurred to him that 
 the Great Moment of his destiny had arrived. 
 It was a wonderful moment ! It came with the 
 force of an avalanche, and the world quickly 
 grew blacker and blacker. Lapidowitz began 
 to realise that he was suffering pain, and the 
 pain grew more and more excruciating with 
 amazing rapidity. And slowly, oh, so slowly! 
 the conviction dawned upon him that Mr. Man- 
 delbaum was clutching him tightly by the collar 
 and pulling him out of the store. When he 
 reached the sidewalk the Great Moment of his 
 destiny was past. He snapped his fingers at
 
 Lapidowitz Lapses 85 
 
 Mr. Mandelbaum, laughed in his face, and went 
 home. 
 
 It was an aching Lapidowitz that waked the 
 next morning. It was a puzzled Lapidowitz 
 that scratched his head and racked his memory 
 to recall the details of the preceding evening. 
 And it was a worried Lapidowitz that began to 
 lose confidence in his memory and to wonder 
 what had really happened the day before. 
 Still, he thought, Moishe would know. He re- 
 membered distinctly that Moishe had been pres- 
 ent, and by clever questioning he could draw 
 from the lad an accurate account of what had 
 taken place. He went to the house where 
 Moishe lived and sent a boy up-stairs for him. 
 
 "He has went to school," the boy reported. 
 
 "To school?" repeated Lapidowitz, puzzled. 
 * ' How can that be ? He goes to work. ' ' 
 
 "His mother says he has went to school, but 
 maybe he's playing hookey," explained the lad. 
 
 Lapidowitz went to the nearest school and 
 asked for Moishe. And, sure enough, Moishe 
 himself appeared, a broad grin upon his face. 
 
 "Why ain't you in the store?" asked Lapido- 
 witz. 
 
 "Mr. Mandelbaum gives me my wages to let
 
 86 With the Best Intention 
 
 me go to school for another year," explained 
 Moishe. "He says business ain't no place for 
 me because I'm only a what-do-you-call-um 1 ? 
 a child." 
 
 "He pays your wages and lets you go 
 to school?" asked Lapidowitz incredulously. 
 "When did he do it?" 
 
 Moishe looked at him in surprise. "When 
 he came in the store. Don't you remember? 
 You was trying to kiss the bookkeeper, and the 
 boss just looked at you, and then he asked me 
 how old I was. Then he says it's too bad. 
 Didn't you hear him?" 
 
 Lapidowitz wiped the perspiration from 
 his forehead. "I was er kissing the book- 
 keeper?" he asked, bewildered. 
 
 Moishe giggled. "Don't you remember? 
 You said you'd do it just for spite because she 
 wouldn't marry you. And you told the boss to 
 mind his own business." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Lapidowitz feebly. "Ha! 
 Ha! Ha! Yes, I remember. Funny, wasn't 
 it?" 
 
 "It was awfully funny!" exclaimed Moishe, 
 laughing. "You didn't know he was so strong, 
 did you?" 
 
 "So strong? Who?" asked Lapidowitz.
 
 Lapidowitz Lapses 87 
 
 "Mr. Mandelbaum. He just grabbed you by 
 the collar like a baby and threw you out of the 
 store." 
 
 * ' Oh, yes. Ha ! Ha ! We were only fooling, 
 Moishe. You're too young to understand. I 
 er just dropped in to see how you're get- 
 ting along and er the bookkeeper er she 
 didn't say anything, did she?" 
 
 "Oh, no. She only asked me if it was true 
 about the tenement-houses you own, and I said 
 no, it's only a joke because you want to get mar- 
 ried with her, and she says you're all right." 
 
 A cold shiver crept up and down Lapido- 
 witz 's spine, and the perspiration fairly rolled 
 from his forehead. "Moishe," he whispered 
 hoarsely, "I just come in to ask you to do me a 
 favour. Go to the store this afternoon and tell 
 her I'm going to Chicago and won't be back 
 for a couple of years. When you are older you 
 will understand. Only do it. Won't you?" 
 
 Moishe 's eyes opened wide. "You're going 
 to Chicago!" he asked. 
 
 Lapidowitz gazed at him long and intently. 
 Then he winked. "Between man and man, 
 Moishe, I ask you to tell her." 
 
 And Moishe laughed and promised. Lapido- 
 witz went to Milken's cafe, and all day long sat
 
 88 With the Best Intention 
 
 thinking. In the evening, chastened in spirit 
 and glowing with good resolve, he went to the 
 synagogue.
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 
 
 LIFE itself is very inconsequential. A man 
 who has been living in a cave for two 
 months may step out just in time to be run over 
 by an automobile, and no philosopher could 
 ever figure out satisfactorily the proper relation 
 between the two incidents. What we call a co- 
 incidence is only a correlation of facts that we 
 happen to notice. But, whether we notice them 
 or not, facts seem to keep on correlating. After 
 which burst of wisdom let us plunge into the 
 story. 
 
 Izzy Levine sat at his desk in Marcus & Gom- 
 precht's establishment putting the finishing 
 touches to an essay on "Should Women Vote?" 
 Not that Marcus & Gomprecht dealt in woman's 
 suffrage. They were in the wholesale uphol- 
 stery business. But the Yiddish Arbeiier, a 
 popular Ghetto weekly, had offered a series of 
 prizes for the best argument either for or 
 against woman suffrage, and Izzy, ambitious to 
 
 89
 
 90 With the Best Intention 
 
 shine in the field of literature, overflowing with 
 Schopenhauer's ideas on the unfitness of women 
 for everything, and not a bit interested in the 
 upholstery business, had been devoting a great 
 deal of his time to this essay. Gomprecht, the 
 junior partner, was rather a phlegmatic person, 
 and when Mr. Marcus called his attention to the 
 amount of time Izzy devoted to everything save 
 the upholstery business would only shrug his 
 shoulders. 
 
 ''But can we afford to pay wages by a 
 loafer?" Mr. Marcus would insist. 
 
 "Ven you vas young like him," Gomprecht 
 would answer, "you didn't never kill yourself 
 working." 
 
 This particular afternoon the spectacle of 
 Izzy sprawling over Marcus & Gomprecht 's 
 writing-desk, writing on Marcus & Gomprecht 's 
 stationery, in Marcus & Gomprecht 's time exas- 
 perated Mr. Marcus. 
 
 "Go down to der stock-room in der base- 
 ment," he finally said to Izzy. "See if dere iss 
 fifty-nine bales of horsehair." 
 
 Izzy had just finished his essay. Whistling 
 cheerfully, he stepped upon the freight-elevator 
 and descended to the basement. There were 
 just fifty-nine bales. As the elevator rose to the
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 91 
 
 ground floor, a young man, gorgeously arrayed, 
 called to Izzy to stop. 
 
 "Take me up," he cried. "The passenger 
 elevator ain't running." 
 
 "Sorry," said Izzy, "but it's against the 
 rules. You have to walk. Nobody is allowed 
 to ride on the freight-elevator. ' ' He pulled the 
 cord, and the elevator began to ascend. 
 
 The young man shook his fist. "Come back 
 here ! " he cried. ' ' Do you know who I am ? ' ' 
 
 Izzy smiled at him. "No," he said, "but if 
 you walk up-stairs and give me your card maybe 
 I'll be glad to make your acquaintance." 
 
 "You're a loafer!" cried the young man, ex- 
 asperated. 
 
 Izzy, whistling softly, stopped the elevator 
 and then began to descend. "What did you 
 say?" he asked. 
 
 The young man had at least the courage of 
 his convictions. "You're a loafer!" he re- 
 peated. What happened after that, happened 
 so swiftly that it would be difficult to tell it in 
 detail. Then Izzy stepped upon the elevator 
 and pulled the cord. 
 
 "Never call names when you ain't intro- 
 duced," he said, smiling amiably. 
 
 The young man picked himself up from the
 
 92 With the Best Intention 
 
 corner into which he had shot and shook his 
 fist. ' ' You '11 suffer for this ! " he cried. 
 
 Izzy returned to his desk and began to ad- 
 dress an envelope to the Should- Women- Vote T 
 Editor of the Yiddish Arbeiter. 
 
 "Veil," exclaimed Mr. Marcus, hustling 
 toward him, "v'y didn't you come unt tell me 
 how many bales iss 1 " 
 
 "Because," said Izzy, moistening the flap of 
 the envelope, "you didn't ask me to. You said 
 I should go and see if there are fifty-nine bales." 
 
 Mr. Marcus glared at him. Somehow or 
 other, Izzy had the effect of setting every nerve 
 in Mr. Marcus 's body on edge. 
 
 "How many bales iss?" he asked. 
 
 "Fifty-nine," said Izzy. 
 
 Then the door opened, and the gorgeously ar- 
 rayed young man, breathing heavily from his 
 stair-climbing, burst into the room. One of his 
 eyes was very red. He approached the junior 
 partner's desk. 
 
 "Look!" he said to the astonished Grom- 
 precht, and pointing to his eye, "look what that 
 prize-fighter you got did to me." 
 
 Gomprecht glared at Izzy. "Did you hit my 
 son?" 
 
 Izzy surveyed the young man calmly. "I
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 93 
 
 didn't know lie was your son, but lie said I was 
 a loafer, so I had to punch him." 
 
 "I guess," said Gomprecht dryly, "maybe 
 he vasn't so wrong. You better pack up and 
 get ouid ! ' ' 
 
 1 'Sure," said Izzy cheerfully; "anything to 
 oblige. But you should educate your son not 
 to call people names, or maybe his other eye 
 will get into trouble." 
 
 Then Izzy affixed three of Marcus & Gom- 
 precht 's postage-stamps to his letter, donned 
 his hat and coat, lit a cigarette, and with a 
 cheerful air, departed. The cheerfulness of his 
 demeanour, however, was entirely assumed, and 
 by the time he reached the street, Izzy looked 
 quite as dejected as he felt. 
 
 He lived alone with his mother and supported 
 her, and while he felt he would have little diffi- 
 culty in finding new employment, he realised 
 that, distasteful as the upholstery business had 
 been to him, it had paid better than anything 
 he was likely to find for some time. 
 
 The next thing that happened was a dog-fight. 
 Izzy had stopped to post his letter when two 
 dogs in lively combat rolled against his legs. 
 Izzy stepped aside to watch the fray. Isn't it 
 wonderful that nearly all human beings have
 
 94 With the Best Intention 
 
 achieved that pinnacle of civilisation that when- 
 ever they see two dogs fighting they pause to 
 look on! Izzy's heart went out instinctively to 
 the smaller dog. This was a yellowish-brown 
 animal, evidently a cross breed of fox-terrier, 
 bulldog, spaniel, Spitz, and dachshund. Yet, 
 while his family tree was unquestionably bewil- 
 dering, there was something delightfully ap- 
 pealing in his ears and his soft, brown eyes. 
 And the fight was against him. Even as Izzy 
 watched the combat the bigger dog, in one 
 spring, seemed to overwhelm his little antago- 
 nist, and after one fierce whirl, trotted off, leav- 
 ing the little fellow dazed and vanquished. 
 There was no one else around, and the dog 
 looked up into Izzy's face and, slowly, his stump 
 of a tail began to wag. Izzy stooped and patted 
 him upon the head. 
 
 "You made a good fight, doggie," he said, 
 "but I guess you ain't much of a fighter." 
 
 The dog raised one paw, cocked his head on 
 one side, and with each ear at a different angle 
 gazed at Izzy. But Izzy had troubles of his 
 own, and with a final, comforting pat upon the 
 head, turned away and started homeward. 
 
 The next thing that happened was that the 
 door of Milken's Cafe was open, and the in-
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 95 
 
 vigorating odour of coffee assailed Izzy's nos- 
 trils. He hadn't thought of coffee before that 
 moment, but now it seemed to him preposterous 
 to plan what he would do in the future without 
 first drinking a cup of it. So he entered and 
 was immediately hailed with a cry of joy from 
 a tall, lank, bearded, and seedy-looking indi- 
 vidual, who sat at one of the tables, jotting down 
 figures in a note-book. 
 
 " Izzy Levine! Of all men! I was just 
 hoping you would come in." 
 
 " That's funny," said Izzy, smiling. "I've 
 never been in here before. But, my dear 
 Lapidowitz, I am no good to-day. I've just 
 lost my job." 
 
 "But only two dollars, Izzy," exclaimed the 
 schnorrer without wasting a word of sympathy. 
 "You see, I need ten to go to Buffalo, where 
 Oordonsky has a job for me, and if you give me 
 two, that makes six in all, and I can easy get 
 the other four." 
 
 Izzy laughed heartily. "Here's a dollar, 
 Lappy. Not a cent more. Never mind about 
 the Buffalo story. I gave you a dollar to go 
 to Chicago last month. Have a cup of coffee 
 and tell me the latest gossip." 
 
 Lapidowitz accepted the dollar with a bene-
 
 96 With the Best Intention 
 
 diction that applied to Izzy and all his progeny 
 through six generations. Then, looking down 
 at the floor, ''Where did you get the dog!" he 
 asked. 
 
 "What dog?" asked Izzy, looking in his turn. 
 And there, behind him, joyfully wagging his 
 tail at being noticed, stood the victim of the 
 recent combat. 
 
 "Well, you're a great doggie," said Izzy. 
 * 'Whatever put it into your head to follow me ? " 
 
 The dog rose upon his hind legs, laid his paws 
 upon Izzy 's knees, and began to lick his hands. 
 
 "I guess he has adopted me," said Izzy. 
 
 "Ugh!" exclaimed Lapidowitz. "I hate 
 dogs. ' ' 
 
 But Izzy paid no attention to him. He drew 
 the dog upon his lap and stroked his head and 
 his soft ears. "I guess," said he, "if no one 
 comes around and claims you I'll have to give 
 you board and lodging. I never had a dog fol- 
 low me before." 
 
 The dog wore a collar, but it apparently bore 
 no mark that gave a clue to his ownership. 
 
 "Well, good-bye, Lapidowitz," said Izzy, 
 rising. "That makes three dollars you owe 
 me, but you needn't pay me until you have the 
 money."
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 97 
 
 Whistling cheerfully, lie strode out of the 
 cafe. The dog followed him for a few paces, 
 then stopped, hesitated an instant, bounded to- 
 ward Lapidowitz, uttered a shrill yelp that 
 made the schnorrer leap from his chair in ter- 
 ror, and then turned and dashed after Izzy. 
 Lapidowitz sat for an hour pensively cursing 
 dogs. 
 
 The following afternoon it happened that 
 Lapidowitz sat in Milken's Cafe all alone. 
 Milken, after pocketing all the money in the 
 drawer, had stepped out to do some marketing 
 and had asked the schnorrer to keep an eye on 
 the place. It was an unlikely hour for cus- 
 tomers, and Lapidowitz was beginning to doze 
 in his chair when there entered an elderly man 
 of such imposing appearance and of such fierce 
 mien that Lapidowitz promptly rose to his feet. 
 
 "Did you see my dog?" he asked, in excel- 
 lent Yiddish. 
 
 "Your dog?" repeated the schnorrer. 
 
 "No. My cow!" cried the other fiercely. 
 "Didn't you hear me say dog? I lost him some- 
 where in the neighbourhood, and I'll pay a 
 hundred dollars to any one who finds him." 
 
 Lapidowitz grasped the back of a chair for 
 support. "A hundred dollars?" he gasped.
 
 98 With the Best Intention 
 
 The man looked at him in amazement. ' ' Say, 
 you must have lots of time and nothing to do 
 if you always repeat everything people say. A 
 dog, I said, and a hundred dollars. That's 
 what I said. I'm leaving word everywhere in 
 the neighbourhood." 
 
 Then Lapidowitz awoke and rose to the oc- 
 casion. " Don't leave any more word," he 
 said quickly. "I guess I can find him for you. 
 A yellow, brown dog, with spots and and a 
 little tail and " 
 
 "Yes, four feet and a nose. Where is he?" 
 
 "I I think a friend of mine has him. But 
 he isn't home now. Give me your address, 
 and I'll bring the dog to you to-morrow." 
 
 The man handed him a card bearing the name 
 of Isaac Margulies and an address uptown that 
 unfolded visions of fabulous wealth to Lapido- 
 witz 's mind. 
 
 "Mr. Margulies!" he fairly gasped. 
 
 Pleased with the effect of his name, the rich 
 man's manner grew more affable. "You see," 
 he explained, "it was the anniversary of my 
 wife's death, and I went to the cemetery on 
 Long Island in my forty-horse-power automo- 
 bile. I had the dog in the what-do-you-callum, 
 the tonneau in the back he's my daughter's
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 99 
 
 dog. And on the way back I stopped on Clinton 
 Street, near where I used to live, to get some 
 pot-cheese with onions which you can't get any- 
 where else. The first thing I noticed when I 
 got back into the automobile, the dog was gone. 
 Good riddance, I says. But when I get home v 
 you ought to heard my Eosie cry and make a 
 fuss ! Well, I got to go. You fetch the dog up 
 and get a hundred well, let's say a hundred 
 and fifty. Good-bye!" 
 
 And he was gone, leaving Lapidowitz in & 
 state of momentary though joyful collapse. 
 One hundred and fifty dollars! And so easy! 
 It was like raining money from the sky. And 
 in addition, to do a favour for Isaac Margulies, 
 who not only owned a dozen tenement-houses, 
 but lived uptown like a stylisher ! Without giv- 
 ing a moment's thought to Milken or the de- 
 serted cafe, Lapidowitz hastened to Izzy's 
 home. 
 
 His knock upon the door was answered by 
 a series of vicious yelps. 
 
 "Come in!" cried a woman's voice. 
 
 Lapidowitz carefully opened the door about 
 two inches. "Is Izzy in?" he asked. 
 
 "No. He's working temporary by Lubar- 
 sky's real-estate office. I'm his mother."
 
 100 With the Best Intention 
 
 Lapidowitz hesitated a moment, then, " Would 
 you like to sell that dog?" he asked. 
 
 "Sell Izzy's dog? Are you crazy? Who are 
 you? Come inside." 
 
 "I'll give five dollars," said Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Not for a million dollars," said Izzy's 
 mother emphatically. "Wait. I'll come to the 
 door." 
 
 But Lapidowitz waited not. The prospect of 
 the dog taking advantage of an open door gave 
 wings to his heels. He took the steps four at 
 a time. In breathless haste he betook himself 
 to Lubarsky 's office and seeing Izzy through the 
 window, came to a halt. It would not do to ap- 
 proach him impetuously, thought Lapidowitz. 
 It would be sure to arouse suspicion in his mind. 
 So Lapidowitz walked slowly around the block 
 to regain his breath, and then, in the most 
 casual manner, sauntered in Lubarsky 's office. 
 
 "Is Mister Lubarsky in?" he asked. "Well, 
 hello, Izzy! Since when are you here?" 
 
 "Hello, Lappy! Lubarsky is out of town. 
 I 'm only minding the office for him until he gets 
 back. Sit down and tell me all the scandal you 
 know. ' ' 
 
 "How is the dog?" asked Lapidowitz, light- 
 ing a cigarette that Izzy proffered him.
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 101 
 
 "That dog," said Izzy, "is a wonder. He's 
 just as smart as as you are, Lappy. Honest 
 he is ! All day long he sits around and never 
 does any work. In the afternoon he goes out 
 for a little walk, but in an hour he always comes 
 back and scratches on the door. And when I 
 come home, he jumps all over me. He and I 
 are just crazy about each other." 
 
 "Dogs are good company," vouchsafed Lapi- 
 dowitz. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know so much about the com- 
 pany part," said Izzy. "Last night I just fin- 
 ished a fine poem for the Yiddish Arbeiter and 
 the minute my back turned Gompy chewed up 
 the poem." 
 
 "Gompy?" 
 
 "Yes, I've called him Gompy. After Gom- 
 precht, a man I used to work for." 
 
 "Well, Izzy," said Lapidowitz slowly and 
 thoughtfully, "I had an idea yesterday. You 
 know I'm a very lonesome man. I live all by 
 myself, and sometimes I get terribly lonely. 
 So I thought maybe it would be a good thing 
 if I got a dog, too." 
 
 ' ' Fine ! ' ' exclaimed Izzy. ' ' Every man ought 
 to have a dog."
 
 102 With the Best Intention 
 
 "So if you want to get rid of that dog you 
 got I guess maybe I might take him. ' ' 
 
 "Get rid of Gompy? Ha! Ha! Ha!" 
 laughed Izzy. * ' You 're crazy. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, of course," hastily added Lapidowitz, 
 "I wouldn't expect you to do it for nothing. 
 Suppose I buy him from you for well, say five 
 dollars. ' ' 
 
 Izzy grinned. " Have you got five dollars 
 to spend for a dog?" 
 
 "Sure I have," said Lapidowitz eagerly. 
 "Here is it!" 
 
 Izzy held out his hand and took the bill that 
 Lapidowitz extended to him. "Sure enough. 
 It's five dollars," he murmured. Then he drew 
 two dollars from his own pocket, handed them 
 to Lapidowitz, and pocketed the latter 's money. 
 "You owe me three dollars, you know," he ex- 
 plained. "There's your change. A man who 
 has money to buy a dog has money to pay his 
 debts. I'll leave it to the rabbi if you like." 
 
 Lapidowitz glared at him. His lips moved. 
 He was about to burst into a torrent of impreca- 
 tion, when by great effort he managed to con- 
 trol himself and mustered a sickly grin to his 
 countenance. 
 
 "You're a great joker, Izzy," he said. "But
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 103 
 
 business is business. I really want a dog. 
 Give me your dog, and I'll give you five dollars 
 more." 
 
 Izzy opened Ms eyes in surprise. "Why, 
 Lapidowitz, I wouldn't sell that dog for a thou- 
 sand dollars. He and I are friends. Don't 
 you understand? Go and buy some other dog. 
 You can get lots of them." 
 
 Then Lapidowitz opened the floodgates of his 
 wrath. "Swindler and robber!" he cried. 
 ''He ain't your dog! Give me back my money. 
 I'm going to the police to tell them you stole 
 the dog. I'll find the man who owns the dog, 
 and he'll send you to jail. Loafer that you are ! 
 Give me back my money." 
 
 Izzy rose to his feet and yawned. "Lapido- 
 witz," he said genially, "you no longer interest 
 me when you speak like that. ' ' Then he seized 
 the schnorrer by the collar of his coat and gently 
 but firmly pushed him out of the office. In the 
 scuffle, Lapidowitz slightly scratched his hand 
 against the door, and finding it bleeding, has- 
 tened to the nearest drug-store to purchase a 
 piece of sticking-plaster. Lapidowitz was 
 afraid of germs. 
 
 While he was waiting for his purchase, he 
 asked the druggist, "Gives it a medicine vot I
 
 104 With the Best Intention 
 
 can give a dog so he don't know nothing unt 
 goes asleep?" 
 
 "Chloroform," suggested the druggist. "A 
 good whiff of chloroform will make him uncon- 
 scious. ' ' 
 
 " Dot's fine," exclaimed Lapidowitz. "How 
 much costs it?" 
 
 "Oh, ten cents' worth will be all you need 
 for a dog." 
 
 "Unt how do I do it? Der dog eats it?" 
 
 * ' Oh, no ! You pour some on a sponge, hold 
 the dog tight, and press the sponge against his 
 nose." 
 
 "Hold der dog tight?" asked Lapidowitz. 
 "Dolhaf to doit?" 
 
 "Certainly," said the druggist. "They hate 
 the smell of chloroform. Shall I put up some in 
 a bottle for you ? ' ' 
 
 "Never mind," said Lapidowitz gloomily. 
 "If I could hold der dog I vouldn't need der 
 chloroform." 
 
 That night, when Izzy reached home, the dog, 
 as usual, sprang to meet him, barking joyfully, 
 jumping on his hind legs in a frantic endeavour 
 to caress his new master. When his mother 
 told him of the mysterious visitor who had of- 
 fered to buy the dog, Izzy became puzzled.
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 105 
 
 He took the dog on his lap and began to ex- 
 amine him closely. Izzy knew Lapidowitz and 
 knew how easy it was for Lapidowitz to part 
 with fiye dollars for a dog. For the first time, 
 the dog's collar attracted Izzy's close attention 
 and he unbuckled it. On the inside, engraved 
 upon a small plate, he read, " BEANS. Property 
 of Miss Eosie Margulies." And written in ink 
 on the leather stood the address. 
 
 Izzy's heart sank. "So you belong to some- 
 body else," he said to the dog. "And I have 
 to give you up." 
 
 The dog looked into his eyes and, with that 
 strange sympathy that dumb animals sometimes 
 display, began to whimper as if he knew that 
 something unwelcome had happened. 
 
 "Why, your name isn't even Gompy," said 
 Izzy sadly. "It's Beans. Well, Gompy or 
 Beans I suppose I'll have to take you back to 
 Miss what's her name?" He looked at the 
 plate again. "Miss Eosie Margulies. I don't 
 see what she wants with a dog. Maybe she'll 
 be willing to sell you. Golly, that 's a good idea ! 
 Hey, Gompy ? Or Beans I ' ' 
 
 The dog began to prance about with delight 
 at the merry note in Izzy's voice. And Izzy de- 
 termined to call upon Miss Eosie Margulies
 
 106 With the Best Intention 
 
 early the next morning and see if she would be 
 willing to sell Gompy or Beans for any sum 
 that lay within his power to pay. 
 
 Izzy's was not a nature to be long depressed. 
 He possessed the happy faculty of ignoring ob- 
 stacles and, having been fortunate in most of 
 the experiences of his life, had fallen into the 
 way of looking upon the world as an institu- 
 tion devised to contribute to his happiness. If 
 I were to attempt an analysis of his nature, it 
 would be most unsatisfactory. Considering 
 how difficult it is to know oneself, how much 
 more difficult must it be to understand another! 
 And, still more, to describe that other's char- 
 acter satisfactorily to a third? Izzy was hon- 
 est, generous, happy-go-lucky, with no particu- 
 lar ambition in life, totally without prejudice, 
 thoroughly unconventional, and absolutely lack- 
 ing in reverence for all creatures and things 
 mundane. 
 
 " Mother, " he said, "it says here on Gompy's 
 collar that his name is Beans and he belongs to 
 a lady uptown. I'm going up in the morning 
 and see if I can buy him. ' ' 
 
 " That's foolish," said his mother, upon 
 whom the dog had not made quite so deep an
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 107 
 
 impression. ''You'd better be getting a new 
 job." 
 
 "Ok, tkere's no kurry. I kave plenty of 
 money saved up in tke bank. I couldn't work, 
 anyway, if I didn't kave Gompy or Beans. I 
 don't tkink tke lady can be very smart, or ske 
 wouldn't kave called Gompy Beans." 
 
 "Supposing ske won't sell kim?" suggested 
 kis motker. 
 
 Izzy's eyes twinkled. "Well," said ke, "I 
 suppose, tken, I'll kave to marry ker so as to 
 keep tke dog in tke family." 
 
 "Supposing ske's an old lady with grey hair 
 and wrinkles?" said kis motker, laugking. 
 
 "I'll tell ker ske can't kave tke dog back un- 
 less ske adopts me. Say, motker, do you know 
 wkat I tkink? I'll bet tkat rascal Lapidowitz 
 found out tke dog belongs to some one and 
 wanted to buy kim so tkat ke could get a re- 
 ward. Isn't ke foxy!" 
 
 "Maybe tke lady will give you a reward for 
 bringing kim back," suggested Mrs. Levine. 
 
 ' ' A reward for Gomp ? ' ' said Izzy indignantly. 
 "Wky, I'd just as lief sell a little baby if we 
 kad one around kere. Muck ratker, I tkink. 
 Hey, Gompy f Or Beans f ' '
 
 108 With the Best Intention 
 
 The dog jumped on his lap and began to 
 lick his face with great enthusiasm. The next 
 morning Izzy went uptown to the address that 
 was written inside the dog's collar. The place 
 was a brown-stone house, very modest and even 
 somewhat faded-looking, but, according to the 
 standards of Delancey Street, a stylish and pa- 
 latial edifice. In front of it stood a small auto- 
 mobile. 
 
 Izzy rang the bell. The door was opened by 
 a young woman hardly more than a girl and 
 at the sight of her Izzy experienced a most won- 
 derful and most amazing sensation. For a mo- 
 ment he could hardly define it. He kept star- 
 ing at her and she at him. Then, swiftly, the 
 curious feeling came over him that he had been 
 dreaming all his life and had only now, at this 
 moment, awakened. His lips parted as if he 
 were about to speak and then, realising that for 
 the first time in his life he was embarrassed, he 
 laughed merrily. The girl smiled she could 
 not have helped it to save her life. 
 
 "Excuse me," said Izzy suddenly. "I for- 
 got to take off my hat." 
 
 At this the girl laughed outright. Izzy, 
 standing bareheaded with the sunshine spark- 
 ling (oh, we baldheaded men!) upon his curling
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 109 
 
 black hair, could not take his eyes from her 
 face. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, "you're the most 
 beautiful girl I ever laid my eyes on?" 
 
 The girl coloured, regained her composure, 
 and drew herself up with as much dignity as 
 she could muster to her aid. ' ' Did you ring the 
 door-bell?" she asked. 
 
 "Sure I did," said Izzy, his eyes dancing, 
 "and in a minute I'll tell you what I came for. 
 But first I want to apologise for saying you're so 
 pretty. I shouldn't have said it, should I?" 
 
 "Why, no," with great indignation. "I 
 haven't any idea who you are." 
 
 "Oh, I'm Isadore Levine. But that doesn't 
 make any difference. I I say, do you know, 
 when the light falls on your hair it shines just 
 like gold? Oh, please don't go in. I came to 
 see you about some business I just wait a 
 minute. ' ' 
 
 The young lady frowned. He was an ex- 
 tremely good-looking young man, and it was 
 evident that he admired her very much, but his 
 breezy directness startled her. 
 
 "What do you want?" she asked him in an 
 icy tone. 
 
 Izzy turned from her and resolutely fanned
 
 110 With the Best Intention 
 
 himself with his hat. Then : * ' I got your dog. 
 Are you Eosie Margulies? Yes, I've got him. 
 And I came all the way uptown to see if I 
 couldn't buy him from you. We're great 
 friends, Gompy and I I mean Beans. But 
 my ! All you have to say is you want him back 
 and I 'd walk all the way uptown on my head to 
 bring him to you." 
 
 "You've found Beans?" exclaimed the girl, 
 clapping her hands with delight. "Where is 
 he? How is he? Why didn't you bring him 
 with you?" 
 
 "You don't think I'm too fresh, do you?" 
 asked Izzy humbly. 
 
 "For finding Beans?" she asked, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "No. For saying you were a peach." 
 
 What Eosie really intended to say will never 
 be known. But she happened to look into the 
 young man's eyes and saw there a revelation of 
 such adoring admiration and they were fine 
 eyes, too that, in a twinkling, all resentment 
 died within her. Yet she said : 
 
 "Yes, I think you are rather fresh. But 
 where is Beans? When will I get him?" 
 
 "He is down in Delancey Street, in the tene- 
 ment-house where I live with my mother."
 
 Love Me Love My Dog 111 
 
 There was a note, half of defiance, half of re- 
 gret, in Izzy's voice. But Rosie looked at him 
 with renewed interest. 
 
 "Do you live in Delancey Street?" she asked 
 eagerly. "We used to live in Delancey Street, 
 too. It's much nicer than Hester Street, where 
 we lived before that." 
 
 All this time Eosie had been standing in the 
 doorway, holding the door with both hands. 
 Now, she suddenly turned, the door opened wide, 
 and a young man appeared at her side. He 
 was very gorgeously dressed and one of his 
 eyes was black and blue. 
 
 "Hello!" said Izzy cheerfully. "How's Mr. 
 Gomprecht I ' ' 
 
 The young man glared at Izzy and was about 
 to speak when, thinking better of it, he turned 
 to Eosie. "Some one's calling you on the tele- 
 phone. ' ' 
 
 "Please see who it is, Nathan. Find out 
 what they want. This gentleman has found 
 Beans." 
 
 "Gentleman?" uttered Nathan, as he went in- 
 side. 
 
 Izzy approached Eosie eagerly came very 
 close to her and whispered hurriedly, ' * Say, if
 
 112 With the Best Intention 
 
 lie 's a friend of yours I 'm awfully sorry that I 
 did it." 
 
 "Did what?" asked Bosie, in surprise. 
 
 "I'm sorry I punched him in the eye," said 
 Izzy. 
 
 Eosie's eyes opened wide. And they began 
 to sparkle. She leaned forward and whispered, 
 "He told me he nearly killed the man who hit 
 him." 
 
 They were both laughing when Nathan came 
 forward again. "It's a man named Lapido- 
 witz," he said. "He lives at the corner of 
 Hester and Clinton streets. He says he's got 
 your dog and wants you to send down for 'it 
 with the reward."
 
 VII 
 
 Love's Young Dream 
 
 i *T% ^TAN'S inhumanity to man makes count- 
 
 IV JL less thousands mourn!" The teacher 
 in school who taught us the rudiments of com- 
 position used to say, "Always begin a chapter 
 with a broad, striking statement containing 
 some great, general truth!" Having done the 
 best we could, let us proceed. 
 
 Izzy stared at Nathan, bewildered, and Kosie 
 stared at Izzy. 
 
 "Well," said Nathan, "what's the matter?" 
 
 Izzy was speechless. 
 
 "There must be some mistake," said Kosie. 
 "This gentleman just told me he had Beans; 
 didn 't you, Mr. Levine ? ' ' 
 
 Nathan tittered. "I guess, Kosie," he said, 
 with a grin, "maybe I'd better run down-town 
 and bring the dog back for you. I'll pay the re- 
 ward, and your father can settle with me later." 
 
 Then Izzy, whose mind had been occupied with 
 watching a fairy palace that he had built with 
 
 113
 
 114 With the Best Intention 
 
 great rapidity crumble into vanishing frag- 
 ments with equal swiftness, awoke. "You 
 know I told the truth, don't you?" he asked. 
 
 Eosie was puzzled. "I'm sure of it," said 
 she. ' ' But who is this Lapidowitz f ' ' 
 
 "He's a loafer, a schnorrer, a liar, and I 
 guess, a thief." 
 
 "But he's got the dog," remarked Nathan, 
 grinning. "Good-bye, Eosie. I'll be right 
 back with Beans." He started down the steps. 
 
 "No, you don't," exclaimed Izzy, starting 
 after him. "I'm the only person in the world 
 who will bring that dog back. ' ' He paused for 
 a moment and turned to Eosie. "I'll call you 
 up on the telephone about noon, and I'll tell 
 you just when I'll have the dog here. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 "Good-bye," said Eosie slowly. For just a 
 second Izzy stood there gazing at Eosie, and 
 in that second their eyes met and I am really 
 not sure what happened, but some swift and 
 stirring current of communication must have 
 been established and must have been exceed- 
 ingly busy. Else why did Eosie blush? And 
 why did Izzy's heart beat so tumultuously ? 
 Old as the hills and new as the budding rose, 
 uncalled, unsought, and unexpected, without
 
 Love's Young Dream 115 
 
 rhyme and without reason, comes that won- 
 drous moment of destiny when, as in the Ori- 
 ental parable, a thousand years are crowded 
 within the space of a second. Yes, it was only 
 a second that Izzy stood there, motionless, upon 
 the steps. Then he turned just in time to see 
 Nathan crank the automobile that had been 
 standing in front of the house, step quickly to 
 the wheel, and start slowly down the street. 
 
 "I'll bring the dog, Rosie," cried Nathan. 
 
 Izzy, red with chagrin, began to run. With 
 fiendish malice Nathan steered the car close to 
 the curb and ran it just fast enough to keep 
 pace with Izzy. 
 
 "Running's good exercise for the nerves," he 
 said. The street, however, was wet it had 
 been raining during the night and the automo- 
 bile suddenly swerved and skidded against the 
 curb. It was Izzy's turn to grin. 
 
 ' ' Get a chauffeur ! " he cried. 
 
 Nathan, recovering control of the car, turned 
 into the next street and, feeling the rough 
 stones firmer under the car than the asphalt, in- 
 creased his speed and was soon out of sight. 
 Izzy, with a sinking heart, ran all the way to the 
 nearest elevated station and, of course, just 
 missed a train.
 
 116 With the Best Intention 
 
 Luck was with Nathan. His knock upon 
 Lapidowitz 's door was answered by a vociferous 
 "Come in!" mingled with the loud yelping of a 
 dog in a disagreeable frame of mind. He 
 opened the door, gazed in amazement at the 
 spectacle before him, and the next moment burst 
 into a roar of laughter. Upon a table in the 
 centre of the room, squatted like a Turk and 
 smoking a cigarette, sat Lapidowitz, while 
 Beans, standing on his hind legs with his fore- 
 paws against the edge of the table, was en- 
 deavouring vainly to reach him. Upon behold- 
 ing Nathan the dog dropped on all fours and 
 approached him, gave a few inquisitorial sniffs, 
 and, recognising an acquaintance with whom he 
 had no reason to quarrel, returned to the table 
 and began to growl at Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Veil," said Lapidowitz, glaring at Nathan, 
 "vot iss der joke?" 
 
 "Oh, dear," gasped Nathan, between bursts 
 of laughter. "You look so comical sitting there 
 with the dog trying to chew you up ! " 
 
 "Maybe you like better I get down und let 
 him bite me? Vot?" 
 
 " It 's all right, anyway, ' ' said Nathan. " Pm 
 here to take the dog back. You can get down. 
 I won't let him bite you. He knows me."
 
 "Here iss der key Tif my room. Vait till der dog comes out. 
 Take him to my room, und 1 gif you a quarter"
 
 Love's Young Dream 117 
 
 "Maybe yes und maybe no," said Lapidowitz. 
 "But if it's der same to you, I stay here und ve 
 talk business." 
 
 "How did you get the dog?" 
 
 A broad grin came up Lapidowitz 's face. "I 
 got a young friend vot t'inks he iss smart. Und 
 he had der dog. Den, vun day, Mr. Margulies 
 say, did Mr. Margulies tell you about me ? ' ' 
 
 "No," said Nathan. 
 
 "Veil, my friend, Mr. Margulies, he comes to 
 me und says, 'Lapidowitz,' he says, 'if you get 
 my daughter's dog I gif you a hundred und fifty 
 dollars ! ' Sol goes to my friend und asks him 
 to gif me der dog. 'Nefer,' he says. 'Sell him 
 to me!' 'Nefer!' I ask his mother. 'Nefer,' 
 she says. I ask der dog! My! He tried to 
 bite my leg off. So vot could I do ? My friend 
 iss a desperate man. But dear Mr. Margulies 
 vants his dog, und I need der hundred und fifty. 
 Say, I tell you vot! I'm a smart man! Der 
 dog likes efrybody except me, so vot do I do? 
 I get little Sammy Lef kovitz, und I say to him : 
 ' Sammy, I got a dog vot run away from me. He 
 iss in dot house, but I ain't got time to vait for 
 him. Here iss der key uf my room. Vait till 
 der dog comes out. Take him to my room, und 
 I gif you a quarter. In a liddle time Sammy
 
 118 With the Best Intention 
 
 brings der key to me in Milken's cafe und says 
 der dog iss in my room. Ain 't dot smart I Den 
 I telephone der lady, und here you are mit der 
 hundred und fifty." 
 
 "A hundred dollars was all Mr. Margulies 
 said he would give for a reward, ' ' said Nathan. 
 
 "Yes to efrybody else," said Lapidowitz 
 eagerly, "but to me he says, 'Bring der dog, 
 Lapidowitz, my friend, und I gif you one hun- 
 dred und fifty dollars ! ' My vord uf honour ! ' ' 
 
 Nathan took a check-book from his pocket, 
 ' ' A hundred dollars, ' ' he said. But Lapidowitz 
 would not have it. In his rosy optimism he had 
 already planned to spend every cent of a hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars, and any reduction of that 
 sum came as a distinct loss to him. 
 
 "Well," said Nathan finally, "I'll give you a 
 hundred and twenty-five. If you don't like it 
 I'll go out and whistle, and the dog will follow 
 me anyway." 
 
 Reluctantly Lapidowitz consented. Nathan 
 wrote out the check, seized the dog unceremon- 
 iously by the collar, carried him down to the au- 
 tomobile, and tossed him into the tonneau. 
 
 "There," said he, "I guess that will hold that 
 fresh loafer for a while. ' ' 
 
 He started up-town. As the car swung into
 
 Love's Young Dream 119 
 
 Eldridge Street Nathan experienced the joy of 
 seeing Izzy running at full speed down Grand 
 Street. He chuckled. It is rarely given to mor- 
 tal beings to enjoy a keener sense of satisfac- 
 tion than Nathan Gomprecht experienced at 
 that moment. He slackened the speed of the 
 car and, holding to the wheel with one hand, 
 drew from his pocket and lighted a cigarette 
 with the other. Then, settling himself against 
 the cushion in luxurious ease, he opened the 
 throttle wide and skimmed blithely up the Bow- 
 ery. But, alas for the satisfaction of all mor- 
 tal beings ! It was written in the Book of Fate, 
 eternities ago, how long the satisfaction of each 
 mortal shall last, and from this decree there is 
 no appeal. Beans, standing upon the rear seat 
 with his forepaws high upon the cushion, began 
 to bark. What he began to bark at will never 
 be known. Nathan, worried lest the dog should 
 take it into his head to jump out of the car, 
 turned his head and stretched out his hand to 
 seize Beans by the collar. It was a long stretch. 
 And ere his hand could touch the dog, whether 
 it was that the distortion of his body had turned 
 the steering-wheel or whether the tires had 
 struck another layer of the yielding mud that 
 covered the street in patches, the car suddenly
 
 120 With the Best Intention 
 
 skidded, flew sideways a few feet, and, with a 
 rattle and a bang that made Nathan's heart sink, 
 crashed into one of the pillars of the elevated 
 railroad. Nathan was pitched out sideways 
 and landed in a puddle, unhurt. Beans flew 
 over the back of the tonneau as if he had been 
 shot from a catapult, and, landing on his feet, 
 stood for a moment gazing at Nathan and wag- 
 ging his tail in great excitement. The next mo- 
 ment, with a few quick, shrill yelps, he flew off 
 as fast as his little legs could carry him, and was 
 soon out of sight. 
 
 Nathan arose and surveyed the wreck. A 
 crowd had already collected, and a policeman, 
 pushing his way forward, wanted to know Na- 
 than's name and address. Nathan attempted 
 to start the car, but failed. Some part within 
 its vitals had given way. 
 
 "Guess you'll have to tow 'er home," sug- 
 gested the policeman. 
 
 Nathan went to the nearest telephone and 
 called up his bank. "I just gave a check to a 
 man named Lapidowitz for a hundred and 
 twenty-five dollars," he said. "I want to stop 
 payment on it." Then he felt better and, hav- 
 ing arranged to have his automobile towed to a 
 garage, he took an elevated train up-town.
 
 Love's Young Dream 121 
 
 Meanwhile Izzy sat home alone and disconso- 
 late. By the time he had reached Lapidowitz's 
 dwelling the dog was gone. True, Izzy had 
 seized Lapidowitz by the beard and had buf- 
 feted him soundly upon the ear and had said, 
 
 1 'You scoundrel, if you were not such an old 
 man I 'd break every bone in your lazy body ! ' ' 
 
 But all this failed to obviate the distressing 
 fact that Gompy or Beans was gone. And 
 Izzy went home to brood over his hard luck. 
 His mother tried to console him, and Izzy told 
 her the whole story. 
 
 "If you could only see her," he said. "So 
 sweet! So beautiful! And if I could have 
 brought her the dog I'm sure I would have had 
 a chance. But that fellow will tell her some 
 kind of a lie, and I'll never be able to make her 
 believe me." 
 
 "Don't worry, Izzy," said his mother. "Re- 
 member what the rabbi says there 's always as 
 good fish in the sea as ever was caught. ' ' 
 
 Izzy, despite his woe, could not refrain from 
 smiling. "She ain't a fish, mother," he said. 
 ' * She 's a mermaid. ' ' 
 
 And just then, while both were laughing, there 
 came a peremptory scratching upon the door, 
 and the next moment Beans was jumping all
 
 122 With the Best Intention 
 
 over Izzy, barking vociferously and his tail wag- 
 ging violently. 
 
 "Good old Gompy-Beans!" exclaimed Izzy 
 joyfully. "How did you ever get away! And 
 you came right straight back to me ! My, you're 
 the finest little doggie in the whole world ! ' ' 
 
 For ten minutes Izzy and the dog occupied 
 themselves with caressing each other. Then 
 Izzy began to dress himself with more care than 
 he had ever given to that function before. 
 
 "Mother," he said laughingly, "I'm going 
 out, and if a young lady comes to see you, re- 
 member I'm the only son you've got, and tell 
 her what a great man I am. See ? And, what- 
 ever happens, don't let the dog out of the 
 house. ' ' 
 
 A few minutes later Eosie Margulies received 
 another telephone message announcing that her 
 dog had been found. 
 
 "I'm coming right up-town on the elevated 
 road," added Izzy. Ah! that ride up-town was 
 a wonderful journey! Never before had the 
 sky been so blue and all nature so attuned to 
 cheerfulness! Never before had Izzy seen 
 so many happy faces on an elevated train! 
 Never before did a train run so smoothly and 
 so slowly. Even the houses along the route
 
 Love's Young Dream 123 
 
 seemed so bright that Izzy felt sure nothing but 
 happiness could lurk within their walls. Youth 
 and love! Wonder of wonders that these, the 
 two greatest gifts of life, should belong to each 
 other and partake each of the other's beauties! 
 And, laughing together, how joyfully they view 
 the world! All is sunshine and gladness the 
 shadows of existence have vanished away. 
 
 Within a block of her house Izzy met her, 
 walking. For a moment a sense of disappoint- 
 ment swept over him, for he felt that, but by the 
 merest chance, he would have missed her. But, 
 
 "I always go out for a walk about this time," 
 she said hastily, ''and papa's home." 
 
 "If I had missed the train I took," said Izzy 
 reproachfully, "I wouldn't have met you." 
 
 "Young man," said Rosie, in a voice that 
 would have been stern had not two dimples be- 
 lied it, "I've been walking up and down this 
 street for ages, waiting for you. I I want 
 to know about Beans. Where is he I How did 
 you get him away from that horrid man?" 
 
 Izzy told her all that he knew of what had 
 happened, walking beside her the while. Ob- 
 serving presently that they were near the park, 
 he suggested that they sit down on a bench, as 
 he had something very important to tell her.
 
 124 With the Best Intention 
 
 11 About Beans?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "No," said Izzy. "It's about another dog. 
 His name is Izzy Levine. He 's a poor dog, but 
 he wants to tell you something." 
 
 There was something in Izzy's voice that be- 
 lied his smiling eyes and brought the colour to 
 Rosie 's cheeks. 
 
 ''Miss Margulies," he said, when they were 
 seated, ' ' everybody tells me I 'm too fresh. And 
 I guess they're right. But I want you to listen 
 to me and not tell me that I'm too fresh until 
 I'm through, and then, if you like, I'll get 
 straight up and go away and never bother you 
 any more. ' ' 
 
 "Where is Beans?" asked Rosie quickly. 
 * * Why didn 't you bring him with you ? ' ' 
 
 "Miss Margulies," said Izzy quietly, "would 
 you like me to go away without saying a word 
 and bring Beans up here ? I '11 do it if you want 
 me to?" 
 
 Rosie hesitated. The attraction of Izzy's 
 personality was strong, but there was the 
 equally strong if not stronger obligation of 
 convention and of maidenly modesty. "Why, 
 what do you want me to do?" she finally 
 asked. 
 
 "I want you to listen to me," said Izzy.
 
 Love's Young Dreain 125 
 
 Then he smiled. "I won't say anything to hurt 
 your feelings," said he. 
 
 Eosie demurely crossed her feet, clasped her 
 hands in her lap, and stared intently at the 
 sky, her lips pressed firmly together. Izzy be- 
 gan to tell her of himself, of his parentage, his 
 lazy boyhood life, and of all that he had done 
 and hoped to do. His voice, low tuned and 
 earnest, fell pleasantly upon the girl's ears. 
 He told her of the many girls he had known, 
 had danced with and taken to theatres and 
 how, one and all, they had failed to interest 
 him. He dwelt upon his consciousness of his 
 own ability and his own laziness. 
 
 ''Ever since I was a boy I knew I could go 
 out and work and make money as fast as the 
 rest of them. But I never cared. As long as 
 I could keep my mother and myself I preferred 
 to loaf along and not bother about the future. 
 If it should happen that I would want to wake 
 up and get busy why, well and good. I'd do 
 it. But it was more fun to write poetry and 
 articles for the newspapers and take life easy. 
 And then, all of a sudden I woke up. ' ' 
 
 Eosie was no longer looking at the sky. Her 
 eyes were fastened upon her hands. And then 
 Izzy, slowly and haltingly at first, tried to tell
 
 126 With the Best Intention 
 
 her of the impression she had made upon him 
 when first he beheld her. And of how that im- 
 pression had grown stronger and stronger. 
 His voice rose, and the words came rolling 
 fluently to his tongue. Youth, eagerness, and 
 love comhined to inspire him, and there poured 
 forth a flood of golden oratory vibrant with 
 truth and passion. Oh, that magic oratory of 
 youth! Its words are fragrant as blossoming 
 flowers: its tone sweet as symphonic music! 
 Heedless of reason, of caution, of calculation, 
 it gallops over all obstacles and leaps uner- 
 ringly to its goal. 
 
 He told her of his love. Slowly his hand 
 reached out and took both of hers in its grasp. 
 Her lips were parted. She was gazing straight 
 ahead, her eyes sparkling as if, in the foliage 
 before her, she beheld a wonderful vision. 
 
 "I know I haven't known you a long time. 
 I know it isn't right for me to talk like this. 
 But I never saw such a beautiful girl as you. 
 I never saw a human being that I loved as much 
 as I love you. I haven't thought about any- 
 thing in the world excepting you from the mo- 
 ment I saw you. There never was anybody in 
 the world so lovely as you. And I know I am 
 terribly fresh to expect that you will ever care
 
 Love's Young Dream 127 
 
 for me. I won't kill myself. I'm not say- 
 ing foolish things. But darling darling 
 darling I'll never have a happy moment as 
 long as I live away from you. I'll never care 
 for anybody else on earth. I don't care what 
 happens to me. My whole life belongs to you. 
 To you, Eosie. Eosie!" 
 
 He repeated the name, slowly, softly, his head 
 bending lower and lower toward hers. 
 
 "To you, Eosie like Beans. A little dog 
 and a big one." 
 
 With cheeks flushed and eyes brimming, 
 Eosie looked at him, and in his smiling face 
 read the truth that great, wonderful Truth 
 which only on rare occasions shines like a light 
 upon the human countenance. 
 
 Then she withdrew her hands from his clasp. 
 Her bosom heaved. 
 
 "I I you shouldn't talk to me like that," 
 she said slowly. "I hardly know you. I I 
 like you very much I want to tell you the 
 truth. But I know I shouldn't listen when you 
 talk like that. Please!" she said hastily, see- 
 ing that he was about to interrupt her, "Please 
 do not say any more. Maybe later oh! why 
 did you talk to me like that!" And the next 
 moment she was in tears.
 
 128 With the Best Intention 
 
 Izzy, heartbroken, tried to console her. * ' Oh, 
 please do not cry!" he exclaimed. " Forget 
 all about me. I'm not worth a single tear. 
 It's better I should be miserable for the rest 
 of my life than that you should cry. I could 
 kill myself for having been such a brute. 
 Please forgive me. And forget everything 
 that I said." 
 
 But soon her eyes were dried, and she turned 
 to him with a smile. "I'm terribly foolish," 
 she said. "But I I don't know what to say. 
 I like you really I like you and and it's 
 all so sudden to me. Please don't say any- 
 thing more about it." 
 
 It seemed to Izzy that the sun never shone 
 more resplendent through a summer cloud than 
 did Eosie's smile through her tear-dimmed 
 eyes. He began to talk of Beans, and in a very 
 few minutes the conversation was running 
 smoothly along safer channels. Once, like a 
 reckless mariner, Izzy deliberately steered the 
 craft of talk upon the rocks. 
 
 "There's one thing I forgot to tell you," he 
 said, in a very determined voice. "I forgot 
 that you were so rich. And I didn't even think 
 of telling you that I don't care a what-do-you- 
 cfaH-um for all your father's money. When we
 
 Love's Young Dream 129 
 
 get married we'll start all by ourselves. You'll 
 have everything in the world you want from 
 me. Of course I suppose your father will 
 make an awful fuss about your marrying me, 
 but you're going to marry me as soon as you 
 love me. And if you don't love me some day 
 I'll die. No please don't get up. I won't 
 say another word. On my honour. I just felt 
 I had to tell you that. But I'll talk only about 
 Beans. I swear I won't say any more about 
 myself. There you can move over to the 
 other end of the bench. But you ought to see 
 the look in Gompy's I mean Beansy's face 
 when I ask him where he's been all afternoon. 
 He looks as if he were just dying to talk to me. 
 Do you suppose dogs think just as we do? I'm 
 sure Beans has more sense than a great many 
 people that I know. Don't you!" 
 
 "I'm sure of it," said Eosie. 
 
 And then Izzy, being wise in his generation, 
 began to talk of other things. It seemed that 
 they had many acquaintances in common 
 people whom Rosie had not seen since her 
 father had moved up-town and in the inter- 
 change of gossip they were soon talking as if 
 they had known each other for years. 
 
 There was something magnetic in Izzy''s
 
 130 With the Best Intention 
 
 story-telling, and Eosie, laughing merrily at 
 his every anecdote, soon found herself pouring 
 the secret aspirations of her soul into his ears. 
 It was when Izzy, bubbling over with enthus- 
 iasm, described his ambition to become a jour- 
 nalist that Eosie confided to him one of the 
 great secrets of her life. 
 
 "Papa doesn't know anything about it," said 
 she, "and I'm sure he'd be awfully mad if he 
 knew. But I'm secretary of the Woman's Suf- 
 frage League of the Daughters of Eebecca and 
 you believe in women voting, don't you?" 
 
 Izzy gazed into the beautiful eyes upturned 
 to his so trustfully. "You bet!" said he. 
 
 "And I'm just dying," continued Eosie, "to 
 make a speech that will make all the other girls 
 envious. I can talk all right I took lessons 
 in elocution but I don't know what to say. 
 And if you can write for the papers you could 
 easily write out something for me to say. 
 Couldn't you?" 
 
 Izzy looked into her eyes that were so 
 clear and blue. "I'll write you a speech," he 
 said, "that will make all the other girls crazy 
 with envy. I'll get you up the finest speech 
 in favour of women voting that you ever heard. 
 I'll"
 
 Love's Young Dream 131 
 
 A policeman, sauntering along his beat, came 
 into view, and Rosie, discovering to her great 
 amazement that Izzy had taken possession of 
 her hand again hastily withdrew it and rose 
 from the bench. 
 
 "I forgot all about Beans!" she exclaimed. 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 Izzy hesitated for an instant. ''I left him 
 at home with my mother," he said in a low 
 voice, "because I hoped you would go down 
 and meet her. I know you'll like her. And 
 you can bring Beans up-town with you. You'll 
 come, won't you? I'll wait down-stairs, and 
 you can go up and get him all by yourself. My 
 mother is just dying to see you. I've been do- 
 ing nothing but talk to her about you since I 
 saw you." 
 
 Rosie frowned. 
 
 "Remember," said Izzy quickly, "what the 
 Talmud says about young people going to see 
 old people. We should always be very respect- 
 ful to those who are older than we are." 
 
 And then Rosie burst into laughter. "You 
 certainly are a fresh young man," she said. 
 "The idea of your talking about the Talmud." 
 For a moment she looked into his dancing eyes, 
 hesitating. Then, "All right. I'll go with
 
 132 With the Best Intention 
 
 you," she said. "But you must promise to be- 
 have yourself on the way and be sensible. " 
 
 Izzy was ready to promise anything. 
 Youth's readiness to promise is one of youth's 
 most charming attributes. They journeyed 
 down-town together, and when they reached the 
 tenement in which Izzy lived he insisted upon 
 remaining below while Eosie went up-stairs to 
 claim the dog. The moment Eosie entered the 
 house Izzy ran to the corner drug-store to tele- 
 phone for a taxicab. And then he hastened to 
 his bank to draw some money. He was de- 
 termined that Eosie and the dog should ride up- 
 town in style. 
 
 Eosie, meanwhile, was submitting to the en- 
 thusiastic caresses of Beans. The moment he 
 beheld her he had begun to yelp with all his 
 might and to leap upon her as high as he could 
 until she took him upon her lap and allowed 
 him to lick her face. It took but a few min- 
 utes for Eosie and Mrs. Levine to grow fond 
 of each other. Eosie 's interest in Izzy was al- 
 ready great enough to enable her to listen with 
 pleasure to his mother's recital of his virtues. 
 And when two women have a common interest 
 they get on famously. Beans was soon for- 
 gotten. While Mrs. Levine was telling her
 
 Love's Young Dream 133 
 
 pretty visitor of Izzy's many good qualities 
 Beans jumped from his mistress's lap and, find- 
 ing the door open, slipped down the stairs. 
 
 "Only an hour ago," said Mrs. Levine 
 proudly, " comes a young man from the Yiddish 
 Arbeit er to ask Izzy to come to the office and 
 see the boss. Because they had decided to give 
 him the prize for his article about women who 
 want to vote. And the young man said maybe 
 Izzy could get a job on the Yiddish Arbeit er to 
 write regularly. " 
 
 "Did he write about woman's suffrage?" 
 asked Rosie eagerly. "He didn't tell me about 
 that," 
 
 "Oh, Izzy isn't a bragger," said Mrs. Le- 
 vine, "but he wrote the finest article you ever 
 read. Those foolish women who want to vote ! 
 What will they say when they read Izzy's ar- 
 ticle! They will feel so silly. I remember 
 nearly every word of it I read it so often 
 'Poor, foolish suffragettes!' That's the way 
 it begins." 
 
 And then Mrs. Levine calmly recited the whole 
 contents of Izzy's article, repeating many pas- 
 sages verbatim and gloating over the most 
 vicious of his attacks upon the claims of the 
 suffragettes, and so interested was she in the
 
 134 With the Best Intention 
 
 recital that she did not notice the look of in- 
 dignation that came to her hearer's face. 
 When she had finished, Rosie, with lips tightly 
 pressed together, arose. 
 
 ''Where is my dog?" she asked. 
 
 Mrs. Levine, somewhat taken aback, glanced 
 around the room and saw the open door. "I 
 guess he ran down-stairs. He always does that. 
 But he will be back in a little while. Won't 
 you wait?" 
 
 "No, thank you," said Rosie frigidly. "I'll 
 probably find him down-stairs. Good-bye." 
 
 And without another word she was gone, 
 leaving Izzy's mother thoroughly perplexed. 
 When Eosie reached the street she met Izzy 
 returning from the bank and, at the same mo- 
 ment, a taxicab drew up in front of the house. 
 
 "Where is Beans!" she asked. "He ran 
 down-stairs. ' ' 
 
 Izzy, instantly aware of some change in her, 
 asked her quickly what had happened. 
 
 "Nothing has happened," she replied icily. 
 "I want my dog." 
 
 "Please!" urged Izzy, standing humbly be- 
 fore her. "Please tell me what is the matter. 
 Something has hurt your feelings. I know it." 
 
 "Oh, dear, no!" replied Rosie with a forced
 
 Love's Young Dream 135 
 
 laugh. ''My feelings aren't hurt a bit. I 
 really am not at all interested whether you are 
 in favour of woman's suffrage or against it. 
 I only want to find my dog and go home." 
 
 "Did my mother tell you " began Izzy, but 
 she interrupted. 
 
 "She did. And, if you don't mind, I do not 
 care to hear any more about it. Where is 
 Beans?" 
 
 Izzy, chagrined, bewildered, and, for the first 
 time in his life, absolutely at a loss for speech, 
 looked around the street and, in a feeble voice, 
 began calling: 
 
 "Beans! Beans! Here, Beans!" 
 
 Eosie, despite her annoyance, had to smile. 
 "You'll have to call louder than that. Ask 
 those boys over there if they have seen any- 
 thing of him." 
 
 Izzy approached a group of small boys who 
 were playing marbles on the sidewalk. "Did 
 any of you see a little dog running around 
 here?" he asked. 
 
 "Sure," said one of the boys. "Mr. Lapido- 
 witz's dog. Sammy Lefkovitz just seen him 
 and grabbed him. He's gone off to take him 
 back to Mr. Lapidowitz. Sammy always gets 
 a quarter when he brings him back. ' '
 
 VIII 
 Just as It Happened 
 
 LIFE itself, you have been informed, often 
 progresses in an incoherent fashion, with- 
 out rhyme or reason, and the philosopher who 
 undertakes to grasp the phenomena of coin- 
 cidence or the natural sequence of cause and 
 effect usually has nothing but a headache for 
 his pains. A man endeavouring to avoid the 
 danger of a brick falling from a building 
 in course of construction takes to the middle of 
 the street. We call this caution. Then, unex- 
 pectedly, the middle of the street caves in. 
 What is the use of calling it anything? 
 
 Lapidowitz, with a check for one hundred 
 and twenty-five dollars in his pocket, started 
 for the bank the moment Nathan Gomprecht 
 took the dog away. He knew the cashier of 
 Nathan's bank, and he wanted to obtain money 
 for the check as quickly as possible. Checks 
 were good enough in their way, but they lacked 
 the fascination for Lapidowitz that ready cash 
 possessed. On the way to the bank he stopped 
 
 136
 
 Just as It Happened 137 
 
 to order a suit of clothes. He was very par- 
 ticular in the selection of the material and gave 
 the most detailed instructions as to how the 
 suit was to be cut. 
 
 "I come back inside half an hour," said he, 
 "und gif you some money on account." 
 
 Then he went to another store and ordered 
 a new silk hat, and to still another, where he se- 
 lected some brilliant scarfs. These he ordered 
 sent "collect" to his room. Then he proceeded 
 to the bank. 
 
 "Mr. Gompreeht stopped payment on this 
 check," said the teller after glancing at the 
 paper. 
 
 Lapidowitz's eyes blinked a great many 
 times, and something seemed to be choking him. 
 "Say it again!" he managed to gurgle. 
 
 "Only a minute ago," explained the teller, 
 "Mr. Gomprecht calls up on the telephone and 
 says we shouldn't pay this check. He says he 
 gave it to you for a dog and the dog ran away 
 from him. Maybe he don't know you well 
 enough to trust you!" This last was accom- 
 panied with a grin. The teller knew Lapido- 
 witz. 
 
 The schnorrer gazed at him blankly. "Does 
 it mean I don't get the money?" he asked.
 
 138 With the Best Intention 
 
 "It means," explained the teller, "you don't 
 get the money out of this bank on this check 
 just now. Maybe some other time, if you have 
 another check, it will be different. But I'm 
 busy now. Good-bye!" 
 
 And Lapidowitz, without another word, 
 turned and left the bank. He went straight 
 home and, without removing his hat, threw 
 himself into a chair and began to curse Nathan 
 Gomprecht. Like the cardinal in the Ingoldsby 
 Legends, 
 
 He cursed him at board, he cursed him in bed ; 
 From the soul of his foot to the crown of his head. 
 
 Then he proceeded to perform the same func- 
 tion for Izzy Levine as the original cause of 
 all his unhappiness. After this he cursed 
 Beans. The very thought of the dog seemed 
 to stimulate his imagination, and many ef- 
 fective words that he had overlooked before 
 came glibly to his tongue. For several hours 
 he sat nursing his gloomy wrath, and, in his 
 own peculiar fashion, he enjoyed it. There 
 came a knock upon the door. "Come in !" said 
 Lapidowitz, and a boy entered the room. 
 
 "I'm f 'um der tailor. He says when do you
 
 Just as It Happened 139 
 
 come vit' der money for der suit, because lie 
 don't go ahead vit 'out!" 
 
 "Tell him I got a new tailor," answered 
 Lapidowitz. And then, glad of a new channel 
 for his thoughts, he proceeded to curse the 
 tailor. Soon the hat and the scarfs arrived, 
 and, after they had departed, Lapidowitz ex- 
 pended what was left of his vocabulary of im- 
 precation upon the innocent storekeepers who 
 had sent them. Again there came a knock upon 
 the door, and, prepared this time to hurl the 
 intruder down the stairs, Lapidowitz opened 
 the door himself. With a loud yelp and a swift 
 rush a dog darted through the doorway and 
 closed his teeth upon the calf of Lapidowitz 's 
 leg. Lapidowitz shrieked, more in terror than 
 in pain, and, loosening the dog's hold with one 
 swift kick, sprang nimbly upon the table. 
 Then Sammy Lefkovitz, his eyes open with 
 amazement, entered the room. 
 
 "V'y does he bite you?" he asked. "Don't 
 he like you?" 
 
 "Shut der door, qvick! Shut der door!" 
 cried Lapidowitz. "So! You haf come 
 back?" 
 
 He looked down from his vantage-point of
 
 140 With the Best Intention 
 
 safety at the two gleaming rows of Beans 's 
 teeth, and then he grinned. 
 
 "Diss time, doggie, I guess ve keep company 
 a Jiddle bit. No, Sammy, he don't alvays bite. 
 Only sometimes v'en he gets egcited. But you 
 are a good boy, und so soon vot I get change 
 for five dollars, I gif you a qvarter! Now go 
 in der closet over in der corner, Sammy, und 
 get a piece of rop vot you find dere. So ! Now 
 tie him good und fast by der collar. So! 
 Now be a good boy und sit down a minute. I 
 haf got to t'ink." 
 
 After the lad had carried out his instruc- 
 tions, Lapidowitz sat squatted upon the table 
 plunged in deep thought. Then a smile came 
 to his face a smile of sheer delight. 
 
 "My!" he exclaimed, jumping down from the 
 table as far from the dog as possible. "I'm 
 a smart man! Sammy, I'm der smartest man 
 in New York. Now you come down-stairs und 
 follow me. But hold fast to der rope, und don 't 
 let dot dog come near me. Promise it, 
 Sammy!" 
 
 "Sure!" said Sammy. "He does everyt'ing 
 what I tell him. ' ' 
 
 "I know it. But don't let go uf der rope!" 
 urged Lapidowitz earnestly. They left the
 
 Just as It Happened 141 
 
 house and started down the street, Lapidowitz 
 walking swiftly ahead with many an anxious 
 backward glance and Sammy behind him hold- 
 ing fast to the dog, who was straining with 
 might and main to get at Lapidowitz. They 
 came to a livery-stable, where Lapidowitz asked 
 what it would cost to drive him and the dog to 
 Margulies's house. 
 
 "Up there and back or only up?" inquired 
 the stableman. 
 
 "For me und der dog up. I come down by 
 der trolley-car. Vot? Five dollars? Such a 
 liddle dog? I only vant a small carriage." 
 
 But it seemed that the only available equi- 
 page in the stable was one of those huge, old- 
 fashioned coaches so familiar at swell East Side 
 functions, and Lapidowitz had to pay the 
 regular wedding or funeral rate. Further- 
 more, he was asked to pay in advance because, 
 for some reason or other, his appearance 
 aroused vague suspicions in the stableman's 
 mind. 
 
 "Hey, there, Dennis!" cried the stableman. 
 From a dark corner of the stable emerged a 
 thick-set, broad-shouldered, square-jawed, red- 
 faced, and cross-eyed specimen of humanity to 
 whom, for sotne inscrutable reason, LagLdoVitz
 
 142 With the Best Intention 
 
 took a prompt dislike. The stableman pointed 
 to Lapidowitz with his thumb. 
 
 ''He wants to go up-town with the dog," he 
 explained. "Take him up and leave him. 
 He'll pay in advance." 
 
 Dennis filled his mouth with chewing-tobacco, 
 inspected Lapidowitz in a somewhat contemptu- 
 ous fashion, and mounted to his seat. There 
 being nothing else to do, Lapidowitz paid the 
 money, bade Sammy Lefkovitz put the dog into 
 the coach and draw all the curtains, and, after 
 making sure that the doors were securely closed, 
 mounted beside the driver. 
 
 "How about dot qvarter?" asked Sammy. 
 
 "So soon v'en I come back you get it," said 
 Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Why didn't you give the kid a quarter?" 
 asked the driver, gazing curiously at Lapido- 
 witz. 
 
 "V'y I didn't? Because dot five dollars I 
 gif your boss iss der last cent vot I got. But 
 so soon I get up-town, my! vot a lot of money 
 Ivillhaf!" 
 
 In the meantime Izzy Levine and the Light of 
 his Life were having troubles of their own. 
 When Izzy, with bewildered countenance, re- 
 ported to her that Beans was on his way back to
 
 Just as It Happened 143 
 
 Lapidowitz, she gazed at him for an instant and 
 then burst into laughter. 
 
 "What's the joke?" asked Izzy. 
 
 "Oh, I think it's too funny for anything!" 
 cried Rosie. "Every time you think you have 
 the dog he goes back to that man." And she 
 went off into another peal of laughter. But, 
 suddenly remembering that she was very angry 
 with the young man, she became serious. 
 " Anyway," said she, in the haughtiest tone that 
 she could summon, "I can't stay here all day. I 
 must go home." 
 
 Izzy, his lips pressed tightly together, led her 
 to the taxicab. As she got in she told him her 
 address. To her surprise Izzy gave the driver 
 an entirely different address and got in beside 
 her. 
 
 "Where are you going?" she asked. 
 
 "To Mr. Lapidowitz 's house," said Izzy. 
 "We ought to get there before the boy who has 
 Beans. We'll wait outside his house until the 
 boy conies." 
 
 Rosie said nothing, but stared straight before 
 her. Izzy looked at her for some time and then, 
 in a low voice, 
 
 "Dear lady," he said, "I don't know what to 
 say. I didn't mean to lie to you. I don't care
 
 144 With the Best Intention 
 
 whether women vote or not really I don't! 
 It's true I wrote that article and it's true I 
 felt that way about it when I wrote it. But I 
 hadn't met you, and and I was just crazy to 
 write something. And then when I met you 
 and everything changed and you told me how 
 I could do something for you honestly, I would 
 have written a speech to show that burglary was 
 a fine trade if you wanted me to. You believe 
 me, don't you?" 
 
 But Kosie gazed straight ahead in silence. 
 She refused to allow her wrath to be so easily 
 appeased. He had seemed such a nice young 
 man, and he had so cruelly deceived her. She 
 would show him that she was not to be trifled 
 with. Slowly Izzy reached out his hand and 
 laid it gently upon hers. She allowed it to rest 
 there about two seconds; then she drew hers 
 away. Izzy sighed and looked out the window. 
 And as he looked 
 
 Life as we all know, is most unreasonable in 
 its inconsistency. Not only do our best laid 
 plans often "gang agley," but those who have 
 made the closest study of life's rules are the 
 most bewildered by the exceptions. When a 
 man devotes his life to frugality, works hard, 
 day and night, in order to accumulate in the
 
 Just as It Happened 145 
 
 bank a sufficient sum to enable him to pass his 
 declining years in rest and comfort, he is consid- 
 ered wise. But, supposing, just as he bids fare- 
 well to his occupation and retires to idleness, 
 the bank fails! What's the use of philosophis- 
 ing about it 1 
 
 Izzy rapped furiously upon the window of the 
 taxicab. The driver brought the cab to a halt 
 and looked around. But Izzy, with an impera- 
 tive ''Wait!'' had already opened the door, 
 jumped out, and was running back. The driver 
 drew the car along the curb and got down from 
 his seat to see what had happened. The next 
 moment, 
 
 ' ' Well, I '11 be say, that 's a shame ! " he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Eosie alighted and looked around. "Where 
 did he go!" she asked. And then, ''Oh, isn't 
 that terrible!" 
 
 About a hundred feet away the feeblest horse 
 that she had ever seen was struggling desper- 
 ately to pull a heavily laden pedlar's wagon that 
 had become stuck in a rut in the street. It was 
 a load out of all proportion to the animal's 
 strength. And the driver, a tall, burly chap, 
 was lashing the horse with might and main. 
 Rosie's cheeks blanched with indignation.
 
 146 With the Best Intention 
 
 "That young man of yours is a peach!" ex- 
 claimed the taxicab-driver. Then, for the first 
 time, Bosie saw Izzy. He was climbing upon 
 the wheel of the wagon. He laid his hand upon 
 the driver's arm and spoke to him. Eosie could 
 not hear what he said, nor could she hear the 
 driver's reply. But she saw him lash the horse 
 again, and then beheld Izzy strike him upon 
 the chin, so swiftly and with such force that 
 the driver toppled from his seat and fell to the 
 ground. 
 
 "Good!" cried Eosie, clapping her hands. 
 But in a twinkling the driver was on his feet and 
 rushing at Izzy. They came to a clinch, and 
 then a crowd that seemed to have sprung from 
 the very sidewalk hid them from Eosie 's view. 
 She ran forward and was aware that a police- 
 man was running beside her. The crowd made 
 way for them, and Eosie saw that the combat 
 was over. Izzy, breathing heavily, was leaning 
 against the wagon, a tiny stream of blood trick- 
 ling from his nose. The driver lay full length 
 upon the sidewalk groping about him, struggling 
 to rise. The policeman listened to every one's 
 story and then, 
 
 "You're both pinched!" he said. "Come 
 along!"
 
 Just as It Happened 147 
 
 "But lie was only trying to save the horse," 
 cried Eosie. "That brute was beating that 
 poor, little horse!" 
 
 "I can't help it, lady," said the policeman. 
 "You can come along as a witness. But I've 
 got to take them both in. ' ' 
 
 "It's an outrage!" exclaimed Eosie. 
 
 "It's assault and battery," said the police- 
 man. * ' The driver says your husband punched 
 him, and that puts it up to the captain. ' ' 
 
 Eosie blushed furiously, whereat Izzy turned 
 his head to hide a smile. Policeman, prisoners, 
 taxicab-driver, and spectators all helped to push 
 the pedlar's wagon out of the rut, and then, the 
 pedlar, leading his horse and the policeman 
 walking amiably alongside Izzy, the procession 
 started for the station house. 
 
 "Lady," said the taxicab-driver, "you'd bet- 
 ter let me drive you around to the station. We 
 can tell what happened, and if your young man 
 needs bail you can go and get it. ' ' 
 
 Her husband ! Her young man ! Why should 
 every one assume so quickly that they were 
 anything but mere acquaintances I Eosie 
 was indignant. But then came the quick recol- 
 lection of Izzy's courage, his sympathy for a 
 poor, dumb beast, and his strength. Eosie 's
 
 148 With the Best Intention 
 
 indignation died away, and a glow of pride suc- 
 ceeded it. She would stand hy him to the bitter 
 end. 
 
 It happened that the police captain on duty 
 at the station house was intelligent. This 
 really happens sometimes. After listening to 
 both sides he asked the driver why he had beaten 
 the horse. 
 
 "I'm sorry I did it," answered the driver, in 
 Yiddish, "but I've been out of work for a week, 
 and I got excited because I had a job to deliver 
 a load. I won't do it again." 
 
 " I 'm sorry I punched him, ' ' said Izzy. Then 
 the captain made them shake hands and told 
 them to go home. Izzy returned to the taxicab 
 with Eosie. "I'm awfully sorry it happened," 
 he said earnestly. "I was hoping you would 
 go home. I'll never forgive myself for letting 
 you go to a station house." 
 
 But Eosie suddenly turned pale and was fum- 
 bling in a bag that she carried. ' ' You 're hurt ! ' ' 
 she gasped. "Your nose is bleeding." 
 
 Izzy saw the tears in her eyes. He sat per- 
 fectly still while she applied a delicately per- 
 fumed handkerchief to his nose. And then, 
 feeling the soft coolness of her hand against his
 
 Just as It Happened 149 
 
 lips and being a thoroughly disreputable scamp, 
 he leaned back against the cushioned seat and 
 said, 
 
 "It hurts terribly!" 
 
 Of course as long as it hurt she had to hold 
 the handkerchief in place. And if Izzy's lips 
 kept moving against her hand she could hardly 
 chide him he had suffered so. He might even 
 die. 
 
 ' ' Do you forgive me about that that foolish 
 article I wrote?" he asked, in the low voice of 
 an invalid. Bosie nodded. She could hardly 
 trust herself to speak. Then Izzy sat up, 
 clasped her in his arms, and kissed her upon the 
 lips. 
 
 "The pain has gone," he said. "Now we'll 
 get your dog. And we'll never quarrel again. 
 And as long as I live I'll never do or say any- 
 thing that you won't like." 
 
 Rosie, red as the flower whose name she bore, 
 looked at him. What was the use of getting an- 
 gry? He was handsome, he was undeniably in 
 love with her, and she had just had a glimpse of 
 his nature that appealed strongly to her. What 
 woman has ever yet failed to respond to the ap- 
 peal of courage accompanied by strength? Is
 
 150 With the Best Intention 
 
 there not that streak of the primitive in all of 
 them? But though Eosie's eyes shone brightly 
 she shook her head and smiled. 
 
 "You certainly are fresh," she said. 
 
 While Izzy had thus been gaining ground he 
 had been losing time, and when they reached 
 Lapidowitz's house the schnorrer and the dog 
 were gone. Izzy was crestfallen. 
 
 "This time," said he, as they rode uptown, 
 "I guess he'll hold on to Beans until he gets the 
 reward." 
 
 But Eosie took it lightly. "What difference 
 does it make! He can't get the reward unless 
 he brings the dog back, and as long as I get 
 Beans it doesn't matter how I get him." 
 
 Izzy shook his head. "It isn't right," he 
 said. "I can't help feeling that you shouldn't 
 get the dog back from anybody but me. Beans 
 brought me all my luck, and it will be bad luck 
 for me if any one else brings him back. Some 
 day I'll get square with Lapidowitz for this." 
 
 "You're superstitious," said Eosie laugh- 
 ingly. "It just serves you right for writing an 
 article against woman suffrage." 
 
 Izzy smiled sheepishly, but even when Eosie 
 impulsively laid her hand upon his he refused to 
 be consoled. ' * I can 't explain it, " he said, " but
 
 Just as It Happened 151 
 
 I have a feeling that if I bring Beans back to 
 you everything will be all right and if I don't 
 everything will be all wrong." 
 
 As they turned into the block on which Kosie 
 lived she exclaimed: "There's papa. Let's 
 get out and walk home with him." 
 
 Izzy discharged the taxicab, and a moment 
 later underwent the ordeal of an introduction 
 to Kosie 's father. 
 
 ' ' This is Mr. Levine, papa, ' ' she said. ' ' He 's 
 the gentleman who found Beans." 
 
 Mr. Margulies had keen eyes, and Izzy felt 
 himself slowly shrinking under their penetrat- 
 ing gaze. 
 
 "Do you alvays ride in taxicabs?" was Mr. 
 Margulies 's first question. Rosie explained 
 what had happened, laying great stress upon 
 Izzy's noble championship of the skinny horse 
 and his brave assault of the brutal driver, when 
 she suddenly discovered that she was holding 
 fast to Izzy's hand and, blushing violently, be- 
 came quite incoherent in her narrative. Mr. 
 Margulies gazed at Izzy with great interest. 
 
 In the struggle for existence in which he had 
 won, he had learned to measure men. He was 
 a very stubborn person, this Mr. Margulies, ac- 
 cepting no standards of life or conduct except
 
 152 With the Best Intention 
 
 such as he fixed himself, and he was far from 
 being a fool. He had suspected in a flash how 
 matters stood between his daughter and this 
 young man, and he had the wisdom not to open 
 his mouth until he had made up his mind just 
 what stand he would take. But Izzy, feeling 
 himself being measured, did some quick measur- 
 ing himself. Returning the older man's gaze 
 frankly, he said: 
 
 "You look like a smart man, Mr. Margulies. 
 There's no use beating about the bush. I'm 
 just crazy about your daughter. I might just 
 as well say it now as at any other time. I want 
 to marry her. I don't want her to have a penny 
 from you. I can take care of her." 
 
 Mr. Margulies looked at his daughter, who, 
 red with confusion, returned his gaze defiantly, 
 but said never a word. Then he grunted. 
 
 "H'm!" said he. "Mr. Levine! Der gen- 
 tleman vot got Beans! H'm! Vare iss 
 Beans?" 
 
 It was Izzy's turn to redden. "You see," he 
 said to Eosie, "your father gets right down to 
 the whole point of the matter." He then told 
 the whole story of Beans and Lapidowitz, and 
 during the recital Mr. Margulies never took his 
 eyes from Izzy's face.
 
 Just as It Happened 153 
 
 ' * H 'm ! ' ' he said, when Izzy had finished. * ' I 
 guess dot's dot old loafer vot I gif my card to 
 when I looked for der dog. Und I said I gif 
 him a hundert und fifty if he brings him back. 
 So I suppose ven he comes mit der dog I haf to 
 gif him der money." He looked at Izzy 
 thoughtfully a moment. Then, "Und in addi- 
 tion you exbect to marry Rosie ? ' ' said he. Izzy 
 nodded. 
 
 "Veil," said Mr. Margulies, "vait till comes 
 der dog. Dis marriage business comes kind of 
 sudden. Come in der house, Rosie, und ven ve 
 get der dog settled ve talk about Mister Vot's- 
 his-name oh, yes! Levine. Good afternoon, 
 Mr. Levine. ' ' 
 
 Izzy remained standing upon the sidewalk un- 
 til the door closed upon Mr. Margulies and his 
 daughter. Not once did she turn to look at him. 
 With a heavy heart Izzy started for the elevated 
 station. 
 
 Some fifteen minutes before this Lapidowitz 
 had rung the bell of Mr. Margulies 's house, and 
 being told that none of the family was at home 
 had said he would return in half an hour. Then 
 he said to Dennis, the driver of the carriage : 
 
 "Ve got to vait. Mr. Margulies ain'd home, 
 but he comes soon for supper. ' '
 
 154 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Take the dorg out!" said Dennis curtly. 
 
 Lapidowitz stared at him. "Der dog?" he 
 repeated. "Take him ouid? I guess not!" 
 
 "Then ye've got another guess comin'," said 
 Dennis. "It wuz five dollars up for you and 
 the dorg. Ye 're up. So's the dorg. There 
 wuzn't nothin' said about waitin'. Waitin's 
 extra. Them's me orders!" 
 
 Slowly the full significance of his position 
 dawned upon Lapidowitz, and his face began to 
 perspire. He looked around in every direc- 
 tion and then mounted to the seat beside the 
 driver. 
 
 * ' Drive around der corner, ' ' he said. * * I vant 
 to have a talk vit' you!" 
 
 "I'll drive to a saloon," said Dennis. "I'm 
 dying for a drink. Me throat's full o' saw- 
 dust." 
 
 They drove to a little German place on Third 
 Avenue which Dennis had noticed on the way up- 
 town. Lapidowitz, after descending from his 
 seat, held his ear to the carriage door, but heard 
 no sound. He turned the handle and opened 
 the door about half an inch. A reassuring 
 "Gr-r-r-r!" came from within. 
 
 "He iss in!" said Lapidowitz, greatly re- 
 lieved. When they were seated inside the place,
 
 Just as It Happened 155 
 
 Lapidowitz placed his hand on his heart and 
 bent a soulful gaze upon Dennis. 
 
 "In half an hour," said he, "I haf vun hun- 
 dert und fifty dollars. Maybe I get a check und 
 maybe I get cash. Vot's der difference? But 
 you stick by me und wait vit' der dog until der 
 man comes home, und nefer, so long as you lif, 
 vill you be sorry." 
 
 ''Orders," said Dennis, "is orders. Ye paid 
 for a ride up. Ye 're up. Ye didn't pay for a 
 ride back, and ye didn't pay for waitin'. So 
 me orders is to go back." 
 
 "But if I make it all right vit' you!" cried 
 Lapidowitz eagerly. "Vot's der use of being 
 in a hurry 1 Listen ! Vait till comes der man, 
 und I gif you two dollars out uf der money ! ' ' 
 
 Dennis rose. "Come on," he said. "Take 
 yer dorg. I'll be getting back to the stable." 
 
 Lapidowitz clutched him by the lapel and for 
 a moment gazed at him, speechless. Inwardly 
 he was cursing this stubborn driver through 
 three of his past generations and through half 
 a dozen in the future. "Vait!" he begged. 
 "How much do you vant?" 
 
 "Well, sir," said Dennis, "I don't trust ye 
 for a cent. But give me yer I. 0. U. f er twenty- 
 five dollars, an' I'll take me chances. I'll wait
 
 156 With the Best Intention 
 
 till yer man comes. I'll wait right outside the 
 door, an' when ye come out I'll collect me money 
 or I'll take it out o' yer hide. An' if ye don't 
 like it I'll open the door o' the carriage an' kick 
 yer dorg out. I've got to he gettin' hack." 
 
 Lapidowitz pleaded with him, hegged him to 
 moderate his terms, explained how his grand- 
 father and grandmother in Eussia were starving 
 for the lack of exactly one hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars. But to no avail. Dennis had taken a 
 strong fancy to the sum of twenty-five dollars. 
 When Lapidowitz continued to plead with him 
 he interrupted him. 
 
 "Ye make me tired," he said. "Shet up now 
 or I '11 make it fifty." 
 
 Lapidowitz, in a panic, wrote out an I. 0. U. 
 for twenty-five dollars. They drove to Mr. 
 Margulies's house again. 
 
 Life, as we remarked before, is full of strange 
 happenings that dovetail in with one another in 
 such a bewildering fashion that it is almost 
 hopeless to speculate upon them. Call them co- 
 incidences, accidents, manifestations of predes- 
 tination or anything you like and you're no 
 better off than if you called them veal-cutlets. 
 A man telephones to his wife that he will be de- 
 tained at his office by important business until
 
 Just as It Happened 157 
 
 late at night. And with the utmost care and 
 caution he organises an automobile joy ride 
 with his partner and a few shining lights of the 
 drama. But if, far out on the highway, his au- 
 tomobile bumps into another automobile that 
 contains his wife's mother, how can philosophy 
 help him? 
 
 Izzy, feeling that the bottom had dropped out 
 of the universe, was walking toward the elevated 
 station when his eye fell upon an old-fashioned 
 carriage standing before a German drinking- 
 place. And through the little window in the 
 back of the carriage he saw the face of a dog 
 pressed tightly against the glass. He drew 
 nearer and stared at the animal. He saw its 
 jaws open, and from within the carriage came 
 the muffled sound of excited barking. 
 
 " Beans!" exclaimed Izzy. "Holy Moses!" 
 You maintain that this was not a very digni- 
 fied ejaculation, and you may be right. Never- 
 theless it is exactly what Izzy said. In a twink- 
 ling he had opened the carriage door, seized the 
 excited animal in his arms, carefully shut the 
 door, and was running at full speed back to Mar- 
 gulies's house. "When the bell rang, Mr. Mar- 
 gulies and Rosie both rushed to the door. It 
 rang like a fire-alarm. The next moment Beans
 
 158 With the Best Intention 
 
 was leaping frantically upon his mistress, and 
 Izzy, perspiring from running and flushed with 
 triumph, was confronting her father. 
 
 " There 's the dog, Mr. Margulies," he said. 
 ' ' Can I have my reward 1 ' ' 
 
 Mr. Margulies gazed at him and then slowly 
 scratched his head. "Come inside," he said. 
 He led the way, and just as his portly figure 
 turned into the parlour Izzy seized Rosie in his 
 arms and kissed her once, twice, three times, 
 upon the lips, before he followed her father. 
 
 "Fresh!*' she whispered after him. But she 
 was smiling. Mr. Margulies motioned to Izzy 
 to sit down. For nearly a minute he looked at 
 him without uttering a word. Then he drew a 
 cigar from his pocket and handed it to Izzy. 
 
 "It's a perfecto!" he said. 
 
 The door-bell rang again a short, peremp- 
 tory ring and when Margulies opened the door 
 he beheld the tall, gaunt figure of Lapido- 
 witz. 
 
 "Veil?" he asked. "Vot iss it? " 
 
 "I have kept my promise," said Lapidowitz, 
 
 in Yiddish. "You told me you lost a dog and 
 
 would pay a hundred and fifty dollars to get him 
 
 back. I promised to bring him back to you.
 
 Just as It Happened 159 
 
 Well, here I am ! The dog is outside in the car- 
 riage. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Margulies stared at him, dumfounded. 
 He opened his mouth to speak, but the word that 
 was on his lips was never uttered. 
 
 As if shot from a catapult, Beans flew across 
 the hallway, flashed between Margulies 's legs, 
 and with a vicious growl seized Lapidowitz by 
 the coat. Margulies had just time to grasp the 
 dog's hind legs when Lapidowitz, with a howl of 
 terror, turned and fled down the steps. For one 
 brief instant he was arrested in his flight. Then 
 there was a sharp, ripping sound, and Mar- 
 gulies observed that Beans held a fragment of 
 Lapidowitz 's Prince Albert between his teeth. 
 Lapidowitz took the flight of steps in one bound, 
 jumped into the carriage and, banging the door 
 shut, held it tightly from within. Dennis, opin- 
 ing that something was wrong, drove off. 
 
 Margulies meanwhile deposited Beans upon 
 the floor and gazed at him studiously for a mo- 
 ment. Then he kicked him. "If you take 
 Eosie," he said to Izzy, "you got to take dot 
 dog." 
 
 Dennis, as we said, drove off. He drove one 
 block. Then he stopped, descended from his
 
 160 With the Best Intention 
 
 seat, and opened the carriage door. "Come 
 out!" he said. Just that and nothing more. 
 Lapidowitz came out. Dennis shut the door, 
 mounted to his seat, and drove off. 
 
 "Hey!" cried Lapidowitz. Dennis did not 
 answer. In fact, he did not even turn his head. 
 
 "Vait!" cried Lapidowitz. "I ain'd got a 
 cent ! I ain 'd got car-fare ! ' ' 
 
 Still no response from Dennis. Then Lapido- 
 witz, clinging to a lamp-post for support, opened 
 his mouth wide and with all the strength of his 
 lungs, cried aloud, 
 
 "Loafer!" 
 
 This time Dennis turned his head and smiled. 
 He had a pleasant smile.
 
 IX 
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 
 
 OF all the phenomena of life the most curi- 
 ous to me, at least has always been the 
 tendency of one thing to lead to another. No 
 sooner do you extricate yourself from one 
 dilemma than you find yourself in another so 
 closely related to and consequent upon the first 
 that they might actually be mother and child. 
 The philosophers do not go very exhaustively 
 into this subject, which is a great pity, but if 
 any philosopher should ever be inclined to make 
 a special study of it he is welcome to all the facts 
 in this narrative that may be of service to him. 
 The late lamented Plansky was a violinist 
 and, according to his widow, fiddled divinely. 
 This, of course, was before his death. Whether 
 or not his musical talent stood him in good stead 
 in his new sphere is not germane to this narra- 
 tive. The important point is that he left a 
 widow and a violin behind him. To make both 
 ends meet after her husband's death, the widow, 
 Plansky, took in a lodger. The name of the 
 
 161
 
 162 With the Best Intention 
 
 lodger was Lapidowitz, the gentleman who lived 
 hy his wits, despised labour, and loved the good 
 things of life. The widow Plansky spent the 
 greater part of her time expressing her opinion 
 of her lodger, and when Lapidowitz ran short 
 of other subjects of conversation he could talk 
 for hours about the widow Plansky. For the 
 sake of brevity Lapowitz's estimate of his land- 
 lady may be tabulated as follows : 
 
 ' ' Her shortcomings " : A terrible temper; ex- 
 tremely suspicious; stingy and grasping; lied; 
 cross-eyed; gossiped; constantly threatened to 
 have people arrested; cold-hearted; ignorant; 
 vindictive; impudent; sycophantic. 
 
 Under the heading, "Her good points," is one 
 lone item: Cooked good coffee for breakfast. 
 
 The widow's estimate of her lodger was much 
 simpler. In her eyes the schnorrer was abso- 
 lutely and hopelessly good for nothing. Only 
 a woman could have elaborated this quality into 
 the long dissertations the widow Plansky could 
 deliver upon the subject. How near either of 
 them came to the truth has also no bearing upon 
 this narrative. Suffice it that there was no love 
 lost between them. 
 
 Lapidowitz owed two weeks' room rent, and 
 rather than discuss the matter with the widow
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 163 
 
 Plansky lie had fallen into the habit of leaving 
 his room early in the morning and returning 
 very late at night. He was sitting one after- 
 noon in Milken's cafe, idly speculating upon 
 what he would do if he were Sultan of the 
 Earth a favourite pastime of his when he was 
 not busy trying to borrow money when Milken 
 handed him a letter. 
 
 "It hass been here nearly two veeks, unt al- 
 vays I forget it to gif it to you," explained Mil- 
 ken. 
 
 Lapidowitz would have upbraided Milken for 
 his neglect if he had not owed him so much 
 money. As it was, he gazed at the letter long 
 and intently, wondering who his correspondent 
 could be. It bore a Russian postmark and was 
 dated nearly five weeks before. He finally 
 opened it and read: 
 
 Dear Mr. Lapidomitz: 
 
 Your father was a good friend of mine and I owe 
 him a great deal for his kindness to me many years 
 ago. In a few days I shall start for America, and 
 the first thing I shall do will be to call on you. Your 
 father often said if he should die before me he wanted 
 me to keep an eye on his son. I hope we will be 
 good friends. 
 
 With great esteem, 
 
 IGNATZ BIMBEEG.
 
 164 With the Best Intention 
 
 Bimberg! The name seemed strangely fa- 
 miliar to Lapidowitz, but for a long time he 
 could not place it. He was quite sure that he 
 knew no one of that name in Russia, personally 
 and yet oh, yes ! Now he remembered that an 
 immigrant from his native town, in retailing his 
 store of gossip, had mentioned a man named 
 Bimberg as the wealthiest Jew in the place. 
 And, with Lapidowitz 's impulsive, rosy optim- 
 ism he leaped immediately to the conclusion 
 that it was no other than this wealthy Bimberg 
 who was coming to America and who would 
 surely befriend him out of gratitude to his 
 father. 
 
 ' 'Look, Milken !" he cried and handed the pro- 
 prietor the letter. 
 
 "Bimberg?" repeated Milken, when he had 
 read it. "Who iss Bimberg?" 
 
 "What? You don't know Bimberg? My! 
 Where did you come from? He is the richest 
 Jew in Russia. He and my father were great 
 friends." 
 
 Milken was profoundly impressed, but re- 
 fused, nevertheless, to lend Lapidowitz a cent 
 upon the strength of the letter. 
 
 "Maybe Mr. Bimberg come unt maybe he 
 don't come unt maybe he gifs you a million dol-
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 165 
 
 lars nnt maybe be don't. But till you pay der 
 last ten dollars vot you got off'n me, not vun 
 cent!" was Milken's ultimatum. 
 
 Lapidowitz returned to bis room determined 
 to establish friendly relations witb his landlady 
 and to wheedle a loan out of her upon the 
 strength of the Bimberg letter. He showed her 
 the letter. The widow Plansky scrutinised it 
 carefully, turned it upside down, and held it up 
 to the light. Then she handed it back to La- 
 pidowitz. 
 
 "You read it," said she. "I don't know 
 where my glasses are." 
 
 Suddenly remembering that the widow could 
 not read, Lapidowitz recited the contents 
 of the letter with such additions, embellish- 
 ments, embroideries, and improvements that 
 Mrs. Plansky 's eyes opened wide with sur. 
 prise. 
 
 "My! What a lot he says in such a little let- 
 ter!" was her comment. "Who is he?" 
 
 "He is the finest man in Russia!" explained 
 Lapidowitz enthusiastically. "He has so much 
 money he couldn't count it in a year. You see, 
 he says in the letter anything I want I can have. 
 So when he comes maybe you can let him have a 
 room."
 
 166 With the Best Intention 
 
 * ' He can have the parlour. I never have vis- 
 itors. When will he be here ? ' ' 
 
 "He don't say exactly," said Lapidowitz, 
 "but he is sure to come almost any day now. 
 Better get the parlour ready. And, oh, by the 
 way, Mrs. Plansky, I owe you six dollars, don't 
 I?" 
 
 Lapidowitz 's face wore its most ingratiating 
 smile, and even the widow's stern countenance 
 relaxed. 
 
 "You have right," she said. 
 
 ' * So lend me five dollars till comes my friend, 
 and it will make just an even eleven dollars what 
 I owe you." 
 
 Lapidowitz 's smile had deepened into a smirk 
 that was meant to be playfully affectionate, but 
 every muscle of the widow's face suddenly stiff- 
 ened. 
 
 "People what has rich friends shouldn't bor- 
 row money from poor ones," she said. "Mr. 
 Plansky told me I never should lend money, and 
 you get bad luck if you break a promise to the 
 dead." 
 
 Lapidowitz retired to his room cursing the 
 widow and her departed husband through every 
 known phase of existence both here and here- 
 after. There came a tap upon his door a few
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 167 
 
 minutes later, and the widow entered bearing a 
 violin-case. 
 
 "I am getting the parlour ready for your 
 friend, ' ' she explained. ' ' You never keep any- 
 thing in your closet, so I guess I'll keep Mr. 
 Plansky's violin there. Nobody ever uses it, 
 but I want to keep it in a safe place.'* 
 
 Lapidowitz cursed Mr. Plansky's violin. 
 Then he sat down and drew up a list of all his 
 friends on the East Side to whom Mr. Bim- 
 berg's letter might appeal as a basis for a loan. 
 After making up the list he began to check off 
 those to whom he already owed money, and 
 when he had completed this task he found that 
 he had checked off the entire list. Lapidowitz 
 sighed. Still, he thought, the unexpected often 
 happens and he might really be doing some of 
 his friends a great injustice. He decided to 
 give them a chance. 
 
 For the next two hours Lapidowitz wandered 
 through the Ghetto showing every one the letter 
 he had received, increasing Mr. Bimberg's for- 
 tune with each telling and strengthening the 
 bonds of friendship that had existed between 
 Bimberg and the schnorrer's father. Lubarsky 
 took a ' ' flier ' ' and lent Lapidowitz a dollar. Be- 
 yond that no amount of coaxing could induce
 
 168 With the Best Intention 
 
 him to go, and he made it clear to Lapidowitz 
 that if Bimberg ever purchased a house in New 
 York and did not transact his real estate busi- 
 ness through Lubarsky he would sue Lapidowitz 
 for all the money he had lent him. 
 
 Late that afternoon Lapidowitz returned to 
 Milken's cafe, seated himself at a table, heaved 
 a long sigh, and ordered a cup of coffee. Then 
 he bought a cigar, lit it, and began to blow smoke 
 rings and, gradually, his mood of dejection 
 passed away and he began to feel at peace with 
 all the world. Lapidowitz never was unhappy 
 long. Having been accustomed to being without 
 money all his life, the lack of it never depressed 
 him beyond the moment when he needed it. As 
 a matter of fact, borrowing a dollar in an after- 
 noon was not such a bad day's work, and the 
 prospect of a friend of his father's coming to 
 America to help him looked better and better 
 the more he thought of it. As is the case with 
 most liars, the stories that Lapidowitz had told 
 about Bimberg 's wealth had made a profound 
 impression on himself. In a little while he be- 
 gan to feel positively happy and looked around 
 the cafe for company. 
 
 At a table near the window sat a young man 
 with his head bowed upon his hands, a very pic-
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 169 
 
 ture of dejection. Lapidowitz knew him 
 slightly Morris Litolff was his name and feel- 
 ing at peace with all the world, hailed him cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 "You look sad, Mr. Litolff," he exclaimed. 
 "Have you got troubles?" 
 
 The young man gazed at him and shook his 
 head with the air of a person to whom life is a 
 despairing void. Lapidowitz crossed the room 
 and seated himself opposite the young man. 
 
 ' ' You should cheer up, ' ' he said. ' * I got trou- 
 bles, too, but it's no use being sad. Is it 
 money?" 
 
 Litolff smiled, for he was well acquainted with 
 the characteristics of Lapidowitz. 
 
 "No. It ain't money," he said. "If it was 
 money, money would help it. But it's some- 
 thing that nothing in the world can help." 
 
 "Well, if it ain't money," said Lapidowitz, 
 as an axiom, "it ain't trouble." 
 
 Lapidowitz 's success as a schnorrer was 
 largely due to the fact that every one liked him. 
 Erratic, unreliable, and irresponsible as he was, 
 he nevertheless possessed one of those magnetic 
 natures that attract friends, and Litolff, almost 
 before he knew it, found himself pouring into 
 Lapidowitz 's ear his tale of woe.
 
 170 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Monday night I got to go to Chicago," he 
 said. "My uncle has a place in his business for 
 me, and if I don't start Monday night I lose it. 
 Last night Sammy Levine and I go to a ball, 
 and there we meet a girl. "We get introduced. 
 Right away I fall head over heels in love. Oh, 
 if you only could see her ! Such a shape ! Such 
 a face! Such high-toned manners! Sammy 
 gets just as stuck on her as me, and I bet you he 
 goes calling on her every day and some day mar- 
 ries her. To-day is Friday. In three days I 
 got to go away. "What kind of a chance have I 
 got? Tell me ! If I could only stay I bet she'd 
 like me." 
 
 "I bet she would," said Lapidowitz sym- 
 pathetically. "Who is she?" 
 
 * * Oh, you don't know her. Her name is Lillie 
 Krauskopf. She's awfully stylish." 
 
 ' ' Sure I know her, ' ' said Lapidowitz eagerly. 
 "Ain't she old Solly Krauskopf, the delicates- 
 sen man's daughter?" 
 
 "That's her," said Litolff sadly. "And on 
 Monday I got to go to Chicago!" 
 
 Lapidowitz gazed at him in amazement. 
 
 "Well, if you like her so much," said he, 
 "why you don't marry her and take her with 
 you?"
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 171 
 
 An unmarried man whose soul is free of ro- 
 mance takes a less complicated view of a love af- 
 fair than a lover. But Litolff shook his head. 
 
 "Girls ain't like that," he said. "It's easy 
 to see you never had any experience." 
 
 "Listen!" said Lapidowitz. "If she would 
 be willing to marry you right away to- 
 night would you take her to Chicago with 
 you!" 
 
 "What a question! Sure I would!" 
 
 Lapidowitz gazed at him reflectively. 
 
 "You know I'm a good talker," he said. 
 "And I know Lillie better than you do. I could 
 say things to her that you couldn't. Besides 
 I was once a schatchen. How would you like 
 it if I went around and had a talk with her? It 
 wouldn't do any harm and " 
 
 "Mr. Lapidowitz," cried the young man, his 
 face aglow with excitement, "if you could get 
 her to do it you'll be best man at the wedding 
 and I'll give you a fine present !" 
 
 "How much?" asked Lapidowitz. The 
 young man hesitated. 
 
 "Twenty dollars," he finally said and seeing 
 the glitter in Lapidowitz 's eyes, "after the wed- 
 ding and not before," he added. Lapidowitz 
 made liim swear upon the books of Moses that
 
 172 With the Best Intention 
 
 lie would pay the money as soon as the rabbi 
 pronounced them man and wife. 
 
 "Now come with me," he said. 
 
 "Oh, I couldn't talk to her," said Litolff has- 
 tily. "When I see her I lose all my courage." 
 
 "Don't be a donkey. You ain't going to see 
 her just yet. You come with me." 
 
 He led the young man to the house where his 
 divinity lived and then pointed to a butcher's 
 shop directly opposite it. 
 
 ' ' Stand over there, ' ' he said. " If I open the 
 window and wave my hand you come up-stairs 
 as fast as you can and rush into the room and 
 give her a kiss a quick one. Don't lose any 
 time, and don't wait to talk to her. Rush in, 
 say, 'Lillie, my darling!' and kiss her!" 
 
 "But" 
 
 "Don't 'but'! Go across the street and 
 wait." 
 
 And before Litolff could add another word 
 Lapidowitz was on his way up the stairs. He 
 was in his element. An undertaking more to 
 his taste than to play John Alden with a reward 
 of twenty dollars dangling before his eyes it 
 would have been difficult to imagine. Here was 
 a field for all his powers of persuasion, and he
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 173 
 
 knew, from experience, that women would al- 
 ways listen to him. 
 
 Miss Lillie Krauskopf received him with 
 great cordiality. 
 
 "I was awfully lonesome," she said, "and I 
 was just wishing some one would drop in and 
 entertain me." 
 
 Lillie was undeniably pretty and pleasing to 
 the eye, but Lapidowitz knew that her father 
 was not in affluent circumstances and wondered 
 why Litolff wanted to marry a girl without a 
 dowry. 
 
 " Lillie, " he said impressively, "you ought 
 to get married.*' 
 
 "Sure," said Lillie. "Is this a proposal?" 
 
 " No ! No ! " cried Lapidowitz hastily. ' ' But 
 you know how much I think of you, and it would 
 be for your interest to get married soon. If 
 I were you I'd get married to-night if I had a 
 chance. ' ' 
 
 Lillie laughed merrily. 
 
 "How can I get married unless I'm asked?" 
 she said. 
 
 "I know a fine young fellow who is crazy 
 about you," said Lapidowitz. "His name is 
 Morris Litolff."
 
 174 With the Best Intention 
 
 The blush that mantled in the girl's cheeks 
 told him in a twinkling just how matters stood, 
 and Lapidowitz was shrewd enough to take 
 full advantage of the situation. 
 
 "Do you mind if I open the window? It's 
 hot in here." And before the girl could 
 answer he had opened the window and waved 
 his arm. 
 
 "Listen, Lillie," he said, and spoke quickly, 
 "Morris is a splendid fellow. He's got to go 
 to Chicago on Monday night. It's the best 
 chance he will ever have. He will get rich out 
 there. He is terribly in love with you, only 
 he is bashful and he is afraid to ask you to 
 marry him right away to-night, maybe. He 
 didn't tell me to ask you, but I didn't like to 
 see him so unhappy. He can't eat and he can't 
 sleep because he 's so crazy about you. ' ' 
 
 He then went on to describe Litolff's char- 
 acter, his honesty, his courage, the warmth of 
 his feelings. He painted in glowing terms the 
 happiness that would be Lillie 's married to so 
 fine a young man, how all the girls would envy 
 her, how beautiful her children were sure to 
 be, and how stylishly she could dress on the 
 fortune Litolff was sure to make. As the 
 words came pouring in a torrent from his lips,
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 175 
 
 Lillie, with glistening eyes and mouth agape, 
 stood staring at htm, dumfounded. And just 
 as he reached the climax of his peroration, 
 hasty steps were heard upon the stairs, the 
 door was flung open, and in rushed Litolff, pale 
 with excitement. 
 
 "Lillie, my darling!" he cried and throwing 
 his arms about her kissed her again and again. 
 For a moment the girl stood stunned and 
 seemed incapable of speech or action. Then 
 her cheeks turned rosy red, and Lapidowitz, 
 the sly rascal, saw her arms slowly fold around 
 the young man's neck. 
 
 4 'Hooray!" he cried, waving his hat. "Now 
 I run out and get the rabbi ! ' ' 
 
 Before a word could be uttered he was gone. 
 Litolff and Lillie looked at each other, and then 
 they laughed and began kissing anew. Pres- 
 ently they sat down and began to talk like sane 
 beings. Litolff, emboldened now that he knew 
 the girl was fond of him, pleaded and explained 
 and argued and occasionally kissed to such 
 good effect that Lillie finally yielded to his en- 
 treaty to be married immediately. She even 
 confessed that she had fallen in love with him 
 at first sight and had been thinking of him all 
 that day.
 
 176 With the Best Intention 
 
 "What will everybody say?" was the 
 thought that worried her most. 
 
 "As long as we got to live in Chicago, what 
 difference does it make?" responded Litolff. 
 "As long as your mother doesn't object." 
 
 ' ' Oh, mamma won 't mind, ' ' said Lillie calmly. 
 "She got married when she was sixteen. I'm 
 nineteen now, and she thinks I ought to got 
 married long ago." 
 
 Then Lapidowitz returned with a long face. 
 
 "I seen the rabbi, but he says you got to 
 have a license before you can get married, and 
 it's too late to get a license to-night." 
 
 Lillie clapped her hands. 
 
 "I'm glad!" she said. "We can get mar- 
 ried to-morrow night, and I'll have a chance 
 to get some clothes. And we can invite some 
 of our friends." 
 
 Litolff was forced to assent. 
 
 "Anyway," he said, "you'll come out to din- 
 ner with me to-night, and we'll talk everything 
 over. Mr. Lapidowitz will come too. I owe 
 him a lot." 
 
 Lapidowitz held up his two hands behind 
 Lillie 's back, shut them and opened them again 
 to indicate the number twenty, but Litolff 
 shook his head. They all went to the nearest
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 177 
 
 restaurant, where Litolff ordered a more fes- 
 tive meal than Lapidowitz had eaten in many 
 a day. During the dinner it was arranged 
 that Lapidowitz should accompany them to the 
 marriage-license bureau in the morning and> 
 after the license had been secured, he was to 
 hire a small hall on Clinton Street. Now that 
 he was compelled to wait a day Litolff was de- 
 termined that the wedding should be as elab- 
 orate an affair as he could arrange. 
 
 ' ' I know a fellow who will get me some musi- 
 cians, cheap," he said, "and I know a florist 
 who will fix up the flowers. I got about thirty 
 people who I want to invite, and I guess you 
 got a lot of friends, too, Lil. So I'll have some 
 swell refreshments. All you got to do, Mr. 
 Lapidowitz, is to arrange for the hall and tell 
 the rabbi what time to be there. After that you 
 got nothing to do but go home and put on your 
 dress suit and wait for the wedding. You got 
 to be my best man to bring us luck." 
 
 "I ain't got a dress suit," said Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Oh, never mind. We don't have to have a 
 best man. We can get married just as tight 
 without it, hey, Lil!" 
 
 "Oh, I can easy get a dress suit," said La- 
 pidowitz hastily. The prospect of playing an
 
 178 With the Best Intention 
 
 important part at a function where there was 
 to be music and good things to eat was too al- 
 luring to be so easily abandoned. 
 
 At the license bureau the following morning 
 Lapidowitz answered so many questions on be- 
 half of both the bride and the groom and dom- 
 inated the proceedings to such an extent that 
 the clerk asked him sarcastically: 
 
 ''Say, who's getting married, you or the 
 young chap?" 
 
 Lapidowitz insisted on taking possession of 
 the license. 
 
 "If I don't show it to the rabbi, he won't 
 come," he explained. 
 
 It was with a feeling of great importance 
 that Lapidowitz accomplished his task of hir- 
 ing the hall and engaging the rabbi, but this 
 satisfactory sensation immediately vanished 
 when he found himself face to face with the 
 problem of equipping himself with a dress suit. 
 He knew that it would be useless to go the 
 rounds of his friends, and attempt to borrow 
 money, for he had called upon them all the day 
 before. He had found, from experience, that 
 five days was the minimum of time that must 
 elapse between visits for any chance of success. 
 He called upon Harris on Eivington Street,
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 179 
 
 who made a specialty of renting wedding gar- 
 ments for both men and women. Harris 
 peered at him over his spectacles. 
 
 "I'm to be best man at Litolff's wedding," 
 said Lapidowitz in the most nonchalant tone 
 he could assume. "Can I hire a dress suit?" 
 
 "Best man?" repeated Harris, with a grin. 
 1 ' Sure you can hire a suit. The last one I got 
 left. Four dollars a day and ten dollars de- 
 posit." 
 
 "Ten dollars deposit? What for?" 
 
 "Because the suit is worth twenty dollars, 
 and it don't go out of the shop unless I get a 
 deposit. I couldn't sleep all night if I didn't 
 have a deposit." 
 
 "Look here, Harris," said Lapidowitz, an 
 a more genial tone, "I'm a little short, just 
 now. But you know me. And look at this let- 
 ter that I just got. Mr. Bimberg will hire all 
 his dress suits here if I recommend you. And 
 he's got enough money to hire a dress suit 
 every day of his life." 
 
 Harris perused the letter, which by this time 
 was somewhat frayed and finger-marked. 
 
 "You're a lucky dog, Lapidowitz," he said, 
 handing back the letter. 
 
 "And you'll let me have a dress suit without
 
 180 With the Best Intention 
 
 a deposit, won't you?" said Lapidowitz ea- 
 gerly. "I'll tell Mr. Bimberg about it so soon 
 as lie comes. And I'll bring the suit back in 
 the morning." 
 
 "Who? Me? Without a deposit? Never!" 
 Lapidowitz strode from the store, slamming 
 the door behind him. He went to his room and 
 for an hour tried to devise some method of rais- 
 ing ten dollars. Milken, he knew, would refuse 
 to lend it. Litolff would see no reason for his 
 having a dress suit at all. The widow Plank- 
 sky a sudden thought shot into his mind, and 
 Lapidowitz sat bolt upright. The violin! 
 Why not pawn it for ten dollars? With the 
 money he was to get from Litolff after the wed- 
 ding he could redeem it the first thing in the 
 morning and replace it without any one being 
 the wiser. It seemed a brilliant thought, but 
 presently doubts arose in his mind. Could 
 any one possibly say he was stealing the violin ? 
 Pshaw! How could a man steal a thing and 
 bring it back? That was only borrowing. 
 That 's all. Only borrowing ! 
 
 He began to reason the matter out. When 
 a man begins to reason out a thing that he has 
 made up his mind to do, it is wonderful how 
 fertile his brain suddenly becomes and how
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 181 
 
 promptly his arguments overwhelm his con- 
 science. Lapidowitz reasoned thus: 
 
 "I rent this room, don't I? And I rent 
 everything in it. And as long as I pay my 
 rent I have the use of everything in the room, 
 don't I? As long as I don't keep anything I 
 can use it, can't I? If I wanted to take the 
 clock off the mantel and carry it around with 
 me, I could, couldn't I? That is, as long as I 
 was sure to bring it back. So what's the differ- 
 ence if the fiddle is in the closet or in the pawn- 
 shop? I'm responsible for it, and when I give 
 up this room the fiddle will be here, won't it? 
 Anyway, it's safer in the pawn-shop." 
 
 His reasoning satisfied him completely, yet 
 nevertheless, when he descended the stairs a 
 few minutes later with the violin hidden under 
 his overcoat it was with the stealthy tread and 
 the furtive glances around him of a man who 
 would have felt embarrassed had he been ob- 
 served. A friendly pawn-broker advanced 
 him ten dollars on the instrument, and with joy 
 in his heart Lapidowitz returned to Harris' 
 store. 
 
 "Here is your deposit," he said loftily. 
 "See that you give me a good suit." 
 
 Harris selected a suit that he thought likely
 
 182 With the Best Intention 
 
 to fit the schnorrer and wrapped it tip for him. 
 
 "It's four dollars a day," he said. "How 
 many days do you want it?" 
 
 "How many days does anybody want a dress 
 suit? One day, of course." 
 
 "There's no telling," responded Harris. 
 
 Lapidowitz spent all of the afternoon and 
 early evening in Milken's cafe. As it grew 
 dark he became somewhat depressed, and the 
 thought of the widow's violin preyed on his 
 mind. What would she do if she detected her 
 loss? He had known her to call a policeman 
 on the slightest provocation and, in fact, had 
 often told his friends about her mania for hav- 
 ing every one arrested. 
 
 "It's too bad about young Lezinsky," Milken 
 happened to remark in Yiddish. 
 
 "Lezinsky? What did he do?" 
 
 "Haven't you heard? He borrowed twenty- 
 five dollars from his boss's cashdrawer without 
 telling him about it and intended to put it back 
 in the morning. He said he often did it. But 
 his boss caught him this time, and he had to go 
 to Jersey while his father is trying to settle 
 it." 
 
 A cold shudder thrilled up and down Lapid- 
 owitz 's spine.
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 183 
 
 "Why did he have to go to Jersey?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, he's safe over there for a few days. 
 The New York police can't arrest you in Jersey. 
 I guess the boss will take the money from the 
 young fellow's father when he cools down. 
 The boy ain't bad." 
 
 "Are you sure they can't arrest you in Jer- 
 sey?" asked Lapidowitz eagerly. 
 
 "Sure I am. It's another state." 
 
 Here, at any rate, was a grain of comfort, 
 for, if anything unpleasant happened, he could 
 go to Jersey and wait until Mr. Bimberg ar- 
 rived. Behind a partition in the rear of the 
 cafe he changed his clothes, and when he reap- 
 peared Milken gazed at him in admiration. 
 
 "You look good!" he said. 
 
 A few minutes later Lapidowitz was in the 
 hall helping Litolff and Lillie receive their 
 guests. A goodly number of people had al- 
 ready arrived. 
 
 "Did you arrange with the rabbi?" asked 
 Litolff. 
 
 "Sure I did," said Lapidowitz. "Here he 
 comes by the door, now." 
 
 "And the license?" 
 
 "I got it in my pocket."
 
 184 With the Best Intention 
 
 While the young couple were welcoming the 
 rabbi, Lapidowitz swooped down upon the re- 
 freshment table. Holding a sandwich between 
 his teeth, as if he feared that it might escape 
 him, he tucked half a dozen more into the 
 pockets of his swallow-tailed coat. The hall 
 was quite small and, by this time, was begin- 
 ning to fill. The air resounded with the chatter 
 of many voices and the tuning of the orchestra. 
 And, just then, a shrill voice in the doorway 
 cried, 
 
 ''Is Mr. Lapidowitz here?" 
 
 Lapidowitz stood on tiptoe and caught a 
 glimpse of the widow Plansky. He turned pale 
 and let a sandwich fall from his hand. Close 
 by him was an open window. And, oh, joy! a 
 fire-escape ran all the way to the yard in the 
 rear of the building. A quick glance around the 
 room convinced him that he was unobserved. 
 A moment later he was climbing down the iron 
 ladder of the fire-escape. 
 
 * ' I want Mr. Lapidowitz ! ' ' repeated the shrill 
 voice. Litolff hastened to approach the 
 speaker. 
 
 ''What is it you want?'* he said. 
 
 "I don't want you, anyway," was the snappy
 
 The Interrupted Wedding 185 
 
 response. "Mr. Milken told me Mr. Lapido- 
 witz is here, and I want to see him. ' ' 
 
 "I'll find him for you," said Litolff. 
 
 In a few minutes the entire room resounded 
 with repetitions of Lapidowitz's name, but 
 there came no response from Lapidowitz. 
 
 "I guess he went out for a minute," said 
 Litolff. And then the perspiration suddenly 
 stood upon his forehead. 
 
 "He's got the wedding license!"
 
 A Night of Horrors 
 
 FOB a moment every voice in the room was 
 hushed. The musicians ceased tuning 
 their instruments and began to light cigarettes. 
 They felt that the time to play the wedding 
 march had been temporarily postponed. Li- 
 tolff walked hurriedly to where the rabbi sat 
 munching a sandwich. 
 
 "You can marry us without a license, can't 
 you, Babbi?" he asked imploringly. 
 
 "And go to prison?" retorted the rabbi. 
 
 "But Lapidowitz showed you the license, 
 didn't he? You know we got one, don't you?" 
 
 ' ' Did he ? Don 't I ? Lapidowitz didn 't show 
 me anything. He says you had a license, but I 
 wouldn't believe Lapidowitz, no matter what 
 he said." 
 
 Lillie laid her hand upon the rabbi's shoulder 
 and added her plea to Litolff's. "Please, 
 Babbi, for my sake!" she said, in a voice that 
 would have made a stone wall relent. 
 
 186
 
 A Night of Horrors 187 
 
 But the rabbi was obdurate. "I couldn't do 
 it," he said. "The law is strict, and if I don't 
 see the license maybe I go to jail. I'm just as 
 sorry as anybody else, because business is busi- 
 ness. Anyway, maybe Lapidowitz will soon 
 come back. Let us wait a while." 
 
 And then began a long wait. .Litolff and 
 Lillie sat hand in hand apart from the guests, 
 Lillie worried and distressed, Litolff raging in 
 his soul. A dozen methods of punishing Lap- 
 idowitz occurred to him, but they all were either 
 too mild or too impracticable. A sound thrash- 
 ing, he thought, would probably be most effec- 
 tive. Meanwhile the assemblage was thinning 
 out. 
 
 Litolff drew his father aside. "Look here, 
 father," he said, "you take mamma and Lillie 's 
 folks down the street to Milken's cafe and get 
 something good to eat. I don't know when that 
 fellow Lapidowitz will come back, and Lillie 's 
 mother looks as if she's going to cry. I'll send 
 for you when Lapidowitz comes." 
 
 The rabbi approached Litolff. "I guess the 
 refreshments are all gone," he said. 
 
 Litolff glanced at the empty table. "I guess 
 so," he said. 
 
 The rabbi sighed. "I thought maybe you
 
 188 With the Best Intention 
 
 had some put away," he remarked. Then he 
 settled himself comfortably in a chair and soon 
 began to doze. 
 
 At the end of an hour Litolff, starting as if 
 from a trance, observed that all the guests had 
 gone. Most of them had approached him and 
 had murmured some farewell or some expres- 
 sion of sympathy, but no impression had been 
 recorded upon his mind. Only one woman be- 
 sides Lillie had remained in the room, and Li- 
 tolff wondered who she was. 
 
 4 'Please don't wait on our account," he said 
 politely. ''The wedding may not take place 
 for some time." 
 
 "I ain't waiting on your account," said the 
 woman. "I got to see Mr. Lapidowitz." 
 
 "Oh! You're the lady who came to see 
 Lapidowitz ! ' ' 
 
 "I am. And what is more, I don't go home 
 till I see him. ' ' 
 
 Litolff had no objection to her remaining. 
 In fact, had she gone and the rabbi continued 
 to sleep, he would have felt too discouraged to 
 wait longer. He was glad that she stayed. 
 
 "Are you sure he'll come back I" asked Lillie. 
 
 Litolff's brow wrinkled. "Nobody can be 
 sure what such a loafer would do," he replied.
 
 A Night of Horrors 189 
 
 1 'But I promised him twenty dollars after the 
 wedding, and if Lapidowitz is alive he'll come 
 back so soon as he can. What that man 
 wouldn't do for twenty dollars isn't worth talk- 
 ing about." 
 
 Just then the rabbi awoke and looked at his 
 watch. "It's getting late," he said, "and I 
 guess I go home." 
 
 "Oh, please, Kabbi," implored Litolff, 
 * * don 't go yet. "We got to get married tonight. ' ' 
 
 "I'm so hungry!" said the rabbi. Litolff 
 ran downstairs and brought up some sand- 
 wiches which he placed upon a table. The rabbi 
 took two and the Widow Plansky took two, 
 holding one in one hand while they ate the 
 other. 
 
 "Can't we go down-town and get another 
 license?" suggested Lillie. 
 
 Litolff shook his head. "It's too late," he 
 said. "And to-morrow is Sunday, and on Mon- 
 day I got to go to Chicago. No, dear, there *s 
 nothing to do but wait. But, oh, when I lay 
 my eyes on Lapidowitz!" 
 
 When the sandwiches were gone the rabbi 
 fell asleep again and snored for nearly fifteen 
 minutes. Then he awoke with a start and 
 looked at his watch.
 
 190 With the Best Intention 
 
 "What's the use of waiting?" he asked. "I 
 can marry you to-morrow just as well." 
 
 "If he don't come back to-night he may not 
 come hack to-morrow," said Litolff. "Don't 
 he in a hurry, Rabbi." 
 
 "But I'm so thirsty!" said the rabbi. Li- 
 tolif ran downstairs and brought up some bot- 
 tled beer. "When the rabbi had quenched his 
 thirst he fell asleep again, and Mrs. Plansky, 
 observing that no one was paying the slightest 
 attention to her, helped herself to what re- 
 mained of the beer. Presently Lillie's head 
 sank upon her lover's shoulder, and she fell 
 asleep. Litolff and the widow alone were 
 awake, Litolff silently cursing every bone in 
 Lapidowitz's body and the widow sitting with 
 folded arms, engrossed in her own thoughts. 
 
 When Lapidowitz reached the foot of the fire- 
 escape he found himself in a yard at the rear 
 of the building. He opened a door leading into 
 the hallway, heard the tuning of the instru- 
 ments and the hum of voices in the hall over- 
 head, and seeing no one, made his way quickly 
 to the street. He glanced swiftly to right and 
 left. There was no policeman in sight. With 
 a sigh of relief Lapidowitz turned westward
 
 A Night of Horrors 191 
 
 and walked as quickly as he could without at- 
 tracting attention. Had he dared he would 
 have run. It was fortunate for him that at 
 Jewish weddings it is the custom for men to 
 wear their hats. Still, he had left his overcoat 
 behind, and the night was chilly. People stared 
 at the tall, bearded figure in a dress suit and 
 silk hat walking so swiftly, but Lapidowitz paid 
 no heed to people. Policemen were all that in- 
 terested him. 
 
 At the Bowery he saw one. The bluecoat 
 stood on the corner swinging his stick, and 
 Lapidowitz, with a guilty conscience, was sure 
 that he was being closely scrutinised. It re- 
 quired considerable effort of the will to look 
 the policeman boldly in the face, but when 
 Lapidowitz had nerved himself to the ordeal 
 he found that the policeman was grinning at 
 him. Lapidowitz 's heart began to beat again, 
 and he grinned amiably in return. 
 
 He reached the ferry at the foot of Des- 
 brosses Street just in time to see the boat pull 
 out of the slip. 
 
 "How soon goes the next one?" he asked a 
 man who stood at the ferry-gate. 
 
 "I don't know. Ask the policeman over 
 there!" was the reply. Lapidowitz felt his
 
 192 With the Best Intention 
 
 heart sinking. What was the policeman doing 
 in this particular spot T And why was he star- 
 ing at Lapidowitz so suspiciously? Did he 
 know? Was he preparing to pounce upon him 
 for stealing a violin? Lapidowitz shuddered 
 and started to enter the ferry-house, but there 
 seemed to be some magnetic attraction that 
 drew him toward the policeman. He began to 
 feel panicky. And then, in the spirit of des- 
 peration that often overcomes the most hard- 
 ened criminal, he determined to put all to the 
 test. He approached the policeman with a 
 jaunty air and a smirk upon his face, but with 
 trepidation in his soul. 
 
 "I I want to go to Jersey," he stammered. 
 
 The policeman transferred a substance that 
 he was masticating from one cheek to the other. 
 "Who's keepin' ye back?" he inquired jovially. 
 
 Lapidowitz 's heart leaped with joy. "No- 
 body!" he exclaimed. "Why should they? 
 But the boat is gone. Comes soon another?" 
 
 "Oh, sure! In ten minutes." 
 
 And now Lapidowitz was perfectly contented. 
 When the boat arrived he seated himself in 
 the "Gents' Cabin" and began to eat the sand- 
 wiches that he carried in his pocket. Subcon- 
 sciously his mind had been upon those sand-
 
 A Night of Horrors 193 
 
 wiches from the moment he left the hall. 
 When the boat reached the New Jersey shore 
 Lapidowitz was the first passenger to leave it. 
 He was in splendid spirits. He had eluded the 
 Widow Plansky and the police, and now all he 
 had to do was to remain in New Jersey until the 
 next day, when he could claim his twenty dol- 
 lars, redeem the violin and, in some surrepti- 
 tious manner, return it to the closet in his room. 
 
 It was rather chilly to walk the streets in a 
 dress suit, and Lapidowitz asked the way to the 
 nearest hotel. It suddenly occurred to him to 
 take stock of his financial resources, and he 
 found that he had only fifty cents. This dis- 
 covery acted as a damper upon his cheerful- 
 ness. It was nearly nine o'clock when he en- 
 tered the Star Hotel close by the ferry, and 
 seating himself in a chair opposite the clerk's 
 desk, began to think. They probably would not 
 let him sit there all night, he feared, and there 
 was something about the clerk's aspect that did 
 not invite an appeal to charity. Besides which 
 he did not like the way the clerk occasionally 
 looked at him. 
 
 "Just like I was a loafer!" he thought. 
 
 By this time Litolff and Lillie were probably 
 married and had forgotten all about him. The
 
 194 With the Best Intention 
 
 recollection of the festive scene in the hall, in 
 which he might have played a conspicuous part, 
 brought a sigh to his lips. But the thought of 
 the Widow Plansky banished all regrets. By 
 this time, too, Mrs. Plansky had probably set 
 a hundred policemen on his track. Lapidowitz 
 shuddered. 
 
 "How much costs the cheapest room?" he 
 suddenly asked. 
 
 "One dollar,'* replied the clerk. 
 
 "I got only a half," said Lapidowitz. 
 
 "We haven't got any half-rooms," said the 
 clerk sarcastically. 
 
 It occurred to Lapidowitz to pawn something. 
 He took a mental inventory of his attire and 
 wondered what article he could best dispense 
 with. Of course he could easily get fifty cents 
 for his hat, but he needed the hat. The shoes 
 and trousers were equally out of the question. 
 The vest ah! there was an idea! He could 
 pin the front of his coat together so as to con- 
 ceal the absence of the vest. He left the hotel 
 and roamed the streets until he came to a sign 
 of the three golden balls. Then he rapped 
 loudly upon the door. Curiously enough, it 
 was at that moment that he remembered he was 
 paying Harris four dollars a day for the dress
 
 A Night of Horrors 195 
 
 suit and that he probably would have to pay 
 for two days. Lapidowitz groaned. A win- 
 dow opened overhead. 
 
 "Vot iss?" asked a forbidding voice. 
 
 "My name is Lapidowitz. I need a dollar. 
 Can you come down-stairs ? ' ' 
 
 "Lapidowitz? From New York?" asked the 
 pawnbroker quickly. 
 
 "That's me? You know me?" 
 
 "You got a cheek! Go away or I call a po- 
 liceman ! ' ' And the window shut with a bang. 
 
 "Only half a dollar on a vest from a swal- 
 low-tailer suit!" cried Lapidowitz. But there 
 came no answer. Lapidowitz sought other 
 pawnshops, but the owners either did not live 
 over their stores or refused to respond to his 
 knocking. For two hours he wandered about in 
 the vain attempt to pawn his vest. Then he 
 returned to the hotel and resumed his chair. 
 It suddenly occurred to him to examine all the 
 pockets of his dress suit perhaps the last man 
 who had hired it had left some money behind. 
 In the course of his search his hand came in 
 contact with a folded paper and for an instant 
 his heart beat faster. He drew the paper forth. 
 It was Liiolff's marriage license. 
 
 The expression of hopeless bewilderment that
 
 196 With the Best Intention 
 
 overspread Lapidowitz 's face attracted the 
 clerk's attention. 
 
 "What's up now?" he asked. Lapidowitz 
 did not reply. His mind was struggling to 
 grasp the situation. The rabbi could not have 
 married them. What were they doing? And. 
 his twenty dollars ! 
 
 "What costs it to telephone to New York?" 
 he asked excitedly. 
 
 "Fifteen cents," said the clerk. 
 
 Lapidowitz found the telephone number of 
 the hall and called it up. "Please get Mr. Li- 
 tolff on the telephone," he asked. "He's up- 
 stairs at a wedding. Yes. I'll wait. Ten 
 minutes? Can't you go quicker? It's terri- 
 bly important!" 
 
 The clerk looked at his watch. "It's fifteen 
 cents for five minutes' conversation." 
 
 Lapidowitz, with the receiver of the telephone 
 pressed against his ear, gazed at the clerk with 
 that expression with which the victims in the 
 Boman arena probably looked at the lions. But 
 the clerk only yawned. Somewhere in the rear 
 of the room there was a clock, and Lapidowitz 
 heard it ticking. It ticked louder than any 
 clock in the world had ever ticked before. 
 
 "Can't you hurry?" cried Lapidowitz into
 
 A Night of Horrors 197 
 
 the telephone, but he might as well have talked 
 against a stone wall. 
 
 "Through?" presently asked the operator. 
 
 "No, no! Gott in Himmel, no!" cried Lap- 
 idowitz. 
 
 "Five minutes are up," said the clerk, look- 
 ing at his watch. Lapidowitz wondered what 
 the possibilities were of the clerk dropping 
 dead. "He will come soon," he said in as 
 pleasant a voice as he could command, but the 
 clerk only drew a penknife from his pocket and 
 began to sharpen a pencil. 
 
 "Through?" asked "Central" again. 
 
 "No!" shouted Lapidowitz. "So soon as I 
 get through I tell you. Keep away!" 
 
 "That's ten minutes," said the clerk, look- 
 ing at his watch. Ten minutes! Forty-five 
 cents gone, and only five cents to keep him all 
 the night! And just then, when Lapidowitz 
 thought he would split from the uproarious 
 ticking of the clock, the voice of Litolff an- 
 swered. 
 
 "It that you, Lapidowitz?" 
 
 "Yes! It's me! Say oh, don't talk like 
 that! Stop it! I won't listen! Shut up!" 
 
 He clapped his hand over the mouthpiece, 
 and turned to the clerk.
 
 198 With the Best Intention 
 
 "How he can swear! Ts! Ts! It ain't 
 right ! " he said, shaking his head. 
 
 "Now listen, Litolff," he went on, when the 
 voice at the other end of the telephone paused. 
 "I find the license in my pocket. I'm in New 
 Jersey by the Star Hotel. It's right by the 
 Desbrosses Street ferry. You and Lillie and 
 the rabbi come over here, and you can get mar- 
 ried right here just as well. No! I can't! 
 No! Never mind why, but I can't come over 
 to New York. I got a reason. Some day I 
 tell you. Hurry up now, because I only got 
 five cents left and I wait right here for you. 
 Good-bye!" 
 
 "There!" he exclaimed triumphantly, as he 
 hung up the receiver. "Now everything is all 
 right." 
 
 "Why can't you go to New York!" asked the 
 clerk suspiciously. 
 
 Lapidowitz reddened. His first impulse was 
 to tell the clerk to mind his own business, but 
 he feared that such a reply might arouse deeper 
 suspicions in the clerk's mind. 
 
 "Oh, it's only a mistake about something," 
 he responded airily. "There is a person who 
 I don 't want to see in New York. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Most people who come over here like that, ' '
 
 A Night of Horrors 199 
 
 remarked the clerk significantly, "are running 
 away from the police." 
 
 "Not me!" exclaimed Lapidowitz quickly. 
 "I ain't afraid of policemen. Even if I should 
 be they could arrest me here. ' ' 
 
 This last touch, he thought, was sure to al- 
 lay the clerk's suspicions. But the clerk's next 
 words filled him with dismay. 
 
 "Sure they could," he said. "Some people 
 think they're safe from the police over here. 
 All that anybody's got to do is to point you out 
 as a suspicious character and any policeman 
 here will hold you until they hear from the po- 
 lice across the river. The only thing is if you 
 don't go back willingly there's a lot of red tape 
 about extradition and all that sort of thing. ' ' 
 
 "They hold you?" asked Lapidowitz limply. 
 
 "That's what they do. Now if I knew you 
 were wanted in New York for a crime, all I'd 
 have to do would be to call a cop and he'd hold 
 you and telephone to the police in New York." 
 
 "I didn't do any crime," cried Lapidowitz. 
 "I guess I go out and see if my friends have 
 came over the ferry." 
 
 Lapidowitz left the hotel with a cold perspira- 
 tion upon his forehead. Even here in New Jer- 
 sey he was not safe from the clutches of the law.
 
 200 With the Best Intention 
 
 What a fool Milken was to tell him that cock- 
 and-bull story about criminals being safe in 
 this state. Still, he thought, the Widow Plan- 
 sky would probably never dream of his being 
 in New Jersey, and Litolff would be too ab- 
 sorbed in his own affairs to pay much attention 
 to any suspicions that might arise in his mind. 
 Nevertheless, it was with considerable nervous- 
 ness that he awaited the coming of the ferry- 
 boat. 
 
 It finally bumped its way into the slip, and 
 Lapidowitz, peering through the gate, saw the 
 passengers standing in groups on the deck. He 
 scanned them closely, but at first could not dis- 
 cern Litolff. Just as the gates were open, how- 
 ever, he caught sight of him and caught sight, 
 likewise, of the Widow Plansky standing close 
 behind him. There were no bystanders to hear 
 his shout of terror and none to see him turn and 
 run at the top of his speed. Looking neither to 
 right nor to left, he ran nearly a block when he 
 observed that he was overtaking a trolley car. 
 At the same moment the conductor caught sight 
 of him, and thinking he was running after the 
 car, pulled the bell-cord. Lapidowitz boarded 
 the car almost breathless^ 
 
 " Where goes the car?" he asked.
 
 A Night of Horrors 201 
 
 "Newark," replied the conductor. 
 "That's good!" said Lapidowitz. 
 
 As soon as Litolff returned from his telephone 
 conversation with Lapidowitz he woke the rabbi. 
 "That loafer just telephoned," he explained. 
 "He's over in a hotel in Jersey City waiting for 
 us. I couldn't get him to come over. Do you 
 mind, Rabbi, coming with us I " 
 
 It required considerable persuasion to induce 
 the rabbi to accompany them to Jersey City, but 
 he finally consented. 
 
 "I go with you !" said Mrs. Plansky, who had 
 been sitting in silence for several hours. Litolff 
 stared at her. 
 
 "I got to see Mr. Lapidowitz," she explained. 
 "It's important, and if he don't come here I go 
 to Jersey." 
 
 "I don't care," said Litolff. "Come along 
 if you like." 
 
 When they reached the Star Hotel the rabbi 
 and Mrs. Plansky yawned sleepily. Litolff 
 looked around for Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Is Mr. Lapidowitz around here anywhere!" 
 he asked the clerk. 
 
 "A tall chap with whiskers, in a dress suit 
 and a plug hat?" Litolff nodded.
 
 202 With the Best Intention 
 
 "He was here a minute ago. He just went 
 out to look for you, if you're the people he was 
 expecting." 
 
 Litolff ran back to the ferry-house and gazed 
 around the street and described Lapidowitz to 
 half a dozen persons, and, after a quarter of an 
 hour, returned to the hotel without him. 
 
 * ' The loafer is gone ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "I guess he'll come back soon. He said he 
 only had fifty cents, and he blew in forty-five 
 cents telephoning for you. He can't go far on 
 five cents." 
 
 But the clerk did not know Lapidowitz. He 
 had paid his five cents and was sitting alone in 
 the car wondering what he would do upon his 
 arrival in Newark, when the conductor again 
 asked him for his fare. 
 
 "I just paid it!" said Lapidowitz in indig- 
 nant surprise. 
 
 "It's five cents to the city limits and five cents 
 more to Newark!" the conductor explained. 
 Lapidowitz felt his heart stop beating again. 
 After feeling in every pocket for the money that 
 he knew was not there, he explained to the con- 
 ductor that he had left all his change in his over- 
 coat pocket an explanation so plausible from 
 a man in a dress suit that the conductor not only
 
 A Night of Horrors 203 
 
 volunteered to pay his fare, but offered to lend 
 him a dime in addition. 
 
 ''Make it a quarter!" said Lapidowitz 
 eagerly. * ' I write down your name and address 
 and send you the money with good interest so 
 soon as I get home." 
 
 The conductor cheerfully acquiesced, and 
 when Lapidowitz arrived in Newark he was the 
 proud owner of a quarter of a dollar. He had 
 also decided upon a plan of action. As long as 
 Mrs. Plansky was in New Jersey it would be 
 safe for him to return home with the violin. It 
 was already after midnight, but he knew that 
 if he had the money he would have no difficulty 
 in arousing the pawnbroker and redeeming the 
 fateful violin. He went to the nearest telephone 
 and called up the Star Hotel. 
 
 "This is Mr. Lapidowitz," he said. 
 
 "Yes," came the clerk 's voice. "There's 
 some one here who is waiting for you." 
 
 Lapidowitz did not give Litolff an opportu- 
 nity to express any of his thoughts. "Listen, 
 Litolff," he began rapidly. "I'm in Newark. 
 I ain't coming back. Why? It's a secret rea- 
 son and I can't tell you. You promised me 
 twenty dollars after you got married. Promise 
 me now you will give me the twenty dollars when
 
 204 With the Best Intention 
 
 I give you the license, and I will tell you where 
 I am, and you can come and get it. I could ask 
 for more, but I 'm an honest man and only want 
 what's right. You got to swear you'll pay it 
 right on the spot. It's no use ! I ain't going to 
 Jersey City. It can't be done." 
 
 When Litolff had finally agreed to his proposi- 
 tion Lapidowitz told where he was and said he 
 would wait on the nearest street corner. 
 
 The rabbi was highly indignant, and it re- 
 quired the utmost efforts of both Lillie and Lit- 
 olff to induce him to wait any longer. It was 
 nearly three-quarters of an hour later when 
 Litolff, pale and furious, met Lapidowitz on the 
 street corner. 
 
 "Mr. Litolff," began Lapidowitz, with out- 
 stretched hands, "believe me " 
 
 "I wouldn't believe you under oath. Give 
 me that license!" 
 
 Without a word Lapidowitz handed him the 
 marriage license. Litolff examined it under a 
 lamp-post, put it in his pocket, drew out a roll 
 of bills, and counted out twenty dollars. These 
 he handed to Lapidowitz. 
 
 "That, I suppose, is all you want, isn't it?" 
 he asked quietly.
 
 A Night of Horrors 205 
 
 Lapidowitz counted the money, thrust it into 
 his pocket and drew himself up haughtily. 
 
 "If you don't speak like a gentleman, that is 
 all, ' ' he replied with dignity. 
 
 The next instant Litolff 's fist shot out and 
 landed with such energy upon Lapidowitz 's nose 
 that the latter fell upon the sidewalk. Even 
 before Lapidowitz could raise his voice to shout 
 any of the curses that came swiftly to his mind, 
 Litolff was running to catch a trolley car that 
 would take him back to his belated wedding. 
 
 It was a weary, aching, and unhappy Lapido- 
 witz who, at break of day, stole softly up the 
 stairs of the house in which he lived, with the 
 Widow Plansky's violin under his arm. He 
 had gone to Milken's cafe, which kept open all 
 night, and changed his clothes. He had awak- 
 ened the pawnbroker and redeemed his violin. 
 He had awakened Harris, and, after a long 
 wrangle, had received two dollars out of the ten 
 he had left as security for the dress suit. 
 Harris had insisted upon charging for two days 
 and told him that he was quite lucky to get 
 off without paying for the wear and tear of the 
 suit, which looked as a dress suit usually does
 
 206 With the Best Intention 
 
 when it has been up all night. And his nose 
 ached from Litolff's blow. 
 
 He could not turn the key of his door in the 
 lock, and when he turned the handle he found 
 that the door was not locked. It opened, but 
 only an inch. A barricade of some kind within 
 the room prevented it from opening further. 
 
 ' ' It must be a policeman ! ' ' was Lapidowitz 's 
 first thought. But the possession of the violin 
 gave him courage. He could say that he had 
 lent it to a musician he wondered why he had 
 not thought of that before. He tapped softly 
 upon the door. A guttural voice in pristine 
 Yiddish answered from within. 
 
 "It's no use. You can't get in, and I won't 
 get out until Lapidowitz returns." 
 
 After the excitement of the evening Lapido- 
 witz was upon the verge of collapse. "I'm La- 
 pidowitz ! " he answered. ' ' Who is it f " 
 
 "Lapidowitz!" cried the voice joyfully. 
 "Gott sei dank!" 
 
 Lapidowitz heard the creaking of a man rising 
 quickly out of bed and heard a bureau and a 
 table and some chairs pushed across the floor. 
 Then the door opened, and in the dawn he beheld 
 a grizzled-haired, jolly-looking person, whose 
 ringlets of hair over the ears and his gaberdine
 
 A Night of Horrors 207 
 
 betokened the newly arrived Kussian immigrant, 
 and whose ragged clothes and unkempt appear- 
 ance Lapidowitz, with a sinking heart, recog- 
 nised as those of a Ghetto schnorrer. He en- 
 tered the room and, without a word, restored the 
 violin to its place in the closet. Then he lit the 
 gas and calmly surveyed the figure before him. 
 Yes, it was unmistakable. 
 
 1 ' I 'm Bimberg, ' ' said the man. ' * Your father 
 oh, how good he always was to me! I have 
 been dying to see you. ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz sank wearily into a chair. He had 
 come to the end of his emotions. 
 
 "But that terrible woman!" Bimberg went 
 on. "As soon as she saw me she told me to 
 get out. She said she wouldn't have me in the 
 house. And when I told her who I was she 
 said some things about you that I wouldn't even 
 repeat. But I wouldn't leave the room because 
 I knew how glad you would be to see me. I 
 pushed the bureau and the table against the door 
 so that she couldn't come in. Then she said she 
 would go out and find you and if you didn't put 
 me out she would put us both out. My! The 
 names she called us ! And she was always talk- 
 ing about some rich Bimberg." 
 
 Lapidowitz swallowed a lump that kept rising
 
 208 With the Best Intention 
 
 to his throat. "Why didn't you go to some 
 hotel!" he asked. 
 
 "A hotel?" repeated Bimberg, with the tips 
 of his fingers upon his breast. "Me go to a 
 hotel ? Where should I get the money to go to a 
 hotel? I didn't even take my clothes off. 1 
 was just waiting for you. See! Here's my 
 satchel ! ' ' 
 
 He pointed to a tattered object bound with 
 innumerable pieces of twine and rope. Lapi- 
 dowitz sighed and drew a dollar from his pocket. 
 
 "It's late," he said weakly. "Here is some 
 money. Three doors away on the right as you 
 go out is a hotel. I'll see you when I wake up." 
 
 Bimberg, yawning, took the money, gathered 
 up his dilapidated baggage, and with a hearty 
 "Sleep well!" went out of the room. Lapido- 
 witz went to bed, but could not sleep. His 
 night's adventures were completely wiped from 
 his mind. It did not even occur to him that the 
 widow Plansky knew nothing of the absence of 
 the violin, but was merely bent upon dispossess- 
 ing an unwelcome lodger. He forgot that his 
 nose ached from its encounter with Litolff 's fist. 
 In fact, there was absolutely no coherence in his 
 thoughts. In a vague, benumbed way, he was 
 thinking of Bimberg!
 
 XI 
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 
 
 NIGHT had fallen while Lapidowitz sat 
 upon a bench in Tompkins Square wait- 
 ing for something toturn up. Tompkins Square 
 was rather far from his usual haunts, but La- 
 pidowitz was tired of being dunned by his cred- 
 itors, and inasmuch as he owed nearly every- 
 body whom he knew and as he knew nearly 
 everybody in the Ghetto, he had, for the nonce, 
 stepped beyond the Ghetto 's confines to rest and 
 to think. The object of this explanation is to 
 point out that Lapidowitz 's own personal pre- 
 dilection had as much to do with his sitting down 
 in Tompkins Square as any caprice of fate. 
 Lapidowitz always blamed fate when things 
 went wrong, taking credit to himself, of course, 
 when matters came out right. 
 
 He had come, once more, near to the end of 
 his resources. His assets, as he figured them, 
 amounted to seventy-five cents in his pocket, 
 and the widow Poliansky. The widow was over 
 
 209
 
 210 With the Best Intention 
 
 fifty and not beautiful. In fact, it even pained 
 Lapidowitz to think of her; but she wore dia- 
 mond earrings, and she had cast tender eyes 
 upon Lapidowitz. Wherefore he had decided 
 that if the worst came to the worst he would 
 marry her. And now he sat wondering how 
 near the worst had come to the worst, and 
 whether there was not time and space between 
 for something to turn up. 
 
 If you wait long enough for something to turn 
 up, something turns up. This is one of na- 
 ture's beneficent laws. It may be a stroke of 
 good fortune, or it may be only a thunder-storm. 
 But it is sure to be something, the only trouble 
 being that it is not given to every one to know 
 immediately whether this something be good or 
 bad. In the case of Lapidowitz something 
 turned up almost immediately. 
 
 A portly son of Israel seated himself, with 
 many creaks and groans, upon the bench beside 
 Lapidowitz and, with a grimace that was meant 
 for a friendly smile, remarked, "A fat man 
 ain'd got no bizness to walk much, ain'd it?" 
 
 Lapidowitz nodded, gazed at the sky, and 
 sighed. 
 
 "You got troubles?" asked the stranger sym- 
 pathetically.
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 211 
 
 "You bet I got!" answered Lapidowitz fer- 
 vently. And a few minutes later he found him- 
 self unburdening his heart into the stranger's 
 ears. It was a sad story that he told, and he 
 told it well. Any one who did not know Lapido- 
 witz would have believed it. It touched his 
 hearer's heart. 
 
 "I tell you vot," said the fat man. "I gif 
 you a chob by my store. It ain'd a big chob, but 
 it iss better as not 'ings. Here iss my card. 
 You come around by der morning at seven 
 o'glock." 
 
 "Sefen d'glock?" repeated Lapidowitz. 
 
 The man nodded. "I know id iss late," he 
 said, "but I don'd get down before dot. I gif 
 you a chob to come efry day by six o'clock, make 
 open der store, und sveep it ouid. ' ' 
 
 "Unt how late I haf to work?" asked Lapido- 
 witz. 
 
 ' * Undil eight o 'glock by nights. I gif you five 
 dollars der veek in der commencement. I know 
 it ain'd much, but you say you haf not a cent got, 
 so it iss better as not 'ings." 
 
 Lapidowitz took the card which the stranger 
 had handed to him and tore it in half. "Maybe 
 I'm poor," he said, "but I ain'd a loafer! Six
 
 212 With the Best Intention 
 
 o 'glock in der morning ! Five dollars der veek ! 
 Suchachob!" 
 
 The stranger slowly rose. "Maybe yon ain'd 
 a loafer," he said, "but if you ain'd I don't 
 know vot iss vun ! ' ' 
 
 And he walked off, leaving Lapidowitz mutter- 
 ing indignantly to himself: "Six o 'glock! 
 Five dollars ! Such a chob ! ' ' 
 
 A half -hour went by. Lapidowitz continued 
 to sit and think and wait for something to turn 
 up, and again something turned up. Fate was 
 good to Lapidowitz this day. A slender, pock- 
 marked individual, with but one eye, came saun- 
 tering along, and took the seat that the fat man 
 had vacated. Without a word to Lapidowitz he 
 drew from his pocket a huge roll of bills and 
 began counting them. The process interested 
 Lapidowitz immensely. It was too dark for him 
 to see the denominations of the bills, but their 
 bulk was impressive. Lapidowitz began to won- 
 der what he would do if the man suddenly 
 dropped dead. Instead of dropping dead, how- 
 ever, the man pocketed the money, turned to La- 
 pidowitz with a pleasant smile, and remarked, 
 
 "I hate them Jews!" 
 
 For a moment Lapidowitz was taken aback. 
 Then a sudden anti-Semitic wave swept through
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 213 
 
 him, and he nodded sympathetically. "Dey iss 
 no good/' he said. "I am vun because I can't 
 help it, but I don't like dem!" 
 
 "Oh, you're all right," the man said. "I 
 seen that the moment I looked at you. But them 
 dogs in the tenement-houses is a bad lot. I live 
 'way up in the Bronx, and I got to come down 
 here every month to collect the rents in that big 
 tenement-house over there I don't speak -their 
 lingo, and I tell you it's hard work making them 
 pay up. I wish I had some one to collect the 
 rents for me. I'd be willing to give him half 
 the profits if he 'd save me the trouble of coming 
 down from the Bronx every month. ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz gripped the bench tightly and 
 tried to repress his eagerness. * * I tell you vot, ' ' 
 he said with forced calmness. "I got not 'ings 
 to do. I collect der rents for you so dot you 
 don't got to come down from der Bronnix." 
 
 The man gazed at him suspiciously and shook 
 his head. "I'm sure you're all right," he said, 
 "but, you see, I don't know you. It's a lot o' 
 money to handle over five hundred dollars a 
 month and half the collector's share would 
 only be worth twenty-five dollars to you. It 
 don't amount to much." 
 
 Twenty-five dollars a month for collecting
 
 214 With the Best Intention 
 
 rents! Lapidowitz 's head fairly swam. It 
 would only be a few hours' work each month 
 because he would know how to handle any ten- 
 ant who showed signs of delinquency. With 
 painful eagerness he proceeded to disclose his 
 identity. He told the stranger his name and 
 his address. He told him the entire history of 
 his life, embellishing it beautifully as he pro- 
 ceeded and giving the names of all the prom- 
 inent people in the Ghetto whom he knew, as 
 proof of his veracity. But the stranger only 
 shook his head. 
 
 " You'd have to put up a bond or a deposit 
 for security," he said. "If you had a couple 
 o ' hundred dollars to leave with me or my bank 
 it'd be all right. Because, you see, business is 
 business. ' ' 
 
 " Vare can I see you to-morrow night!" asked 
 Lapidowitz. 
 
 "You can come up to my office in the Bronx," 
 said the stranger, "or wait here a minute. 
 I '11 be right back." 
 
 Lapidowitz watched the man walk across the 
 street and into the tenement-house that he had 
 indicated. Two hundred dollars! How could 
 he possibly raise such a sum? And yet it was 
 little enough to give as security for an income
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 215 
 
 of twenty-five dollars a month. The stranger 
 returned, frowning, and stood before Lapido- 
 witz. 
 
 ' ' He am 't come home yet, ' ' he said. ' * That 's 
 the old story. So to-morrow night I'll have to 
 come down from the Bronx again. If you care 
 to see me I'll be siting right here about this 
 time, waiting for that tenant to come home. 
 And I'll bet he won't come at that. Well, good 
 night, mister." 
 
 "Good night!" cried Lapidowitz cordially. 
 "I come sure to-morrow night." 
 
 Lapidowitz entered Milken's Cafe and or- 
 dered a slivovitz. 
 
 ' ' Cash or on der account f ' ' asked Milken. 
 
 Lapidowitz frowned. " Except I say differ- 
 ent it goes on der account," he said. 
 
 Milken brought him a glass of third-rate sli- 
 vovitz and then seated himself at Lapidowitz 's 
 table. 
 
 "Barish hass a big bar mitzvah party for his 
 liddle boy to-night," he said meaningly. "V'y 
 didn't you go?" 
 
 "Bar mitzvah parties don'd interest me," 
 said Lapidowitz. ' * Vot vould you do if you vos 
 in my place? I got a chancet to make tventy-
 
 216 With the Best Intention 
 
 five dollars a month, if I can get two hundert 
 dollars for segurity. How can I do it!" 
 
 Milken grinned. "If you had two hundert 
 dollars, Lapidowitz," he said, "I vould nefer 
 see you until it all vos gone. By Barish's har 
 mitzvah party iss Mr. Liebenstein, Mr. Gor- 
 donsky, Mr. Lubarsky, Mr. Semel, unt all der 
 people vot hass two hundert dollars to lend you. 
 Vy you don't go? Barish could easy gif you 
 two hundret dollars." 
 
 Lapidowitz owed Milken nearly two hundred 
 dollars, and while Milken liked him he could not 
 help laughing at the schnorrer's audacity. Yet 
 he had given Lapidowitz an idea. The schnor- 
 rer's brain worked at a gallop for a few min- 
 utes, and then, with the happy smile of a man 
 who has solved a difficult problem, he left the 
 place. He returned to thrust his head into the 
 doorway and ask, 
 
 "Vare iss dot party?" 
 
 "In Excelsior Hall," said Milken. "Don't 
 be foolish. If you ain't got a invitation you 
 can't get in." 
 
 Lapidowitz grinned, but did not answer. He 
 went to a jeweller's store on Grand Street and 
 bought the most brilliant pair of sleeve-buttons
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 217 
 
 that fifty cents could purchase. By artificial 
 light they glittered and sparkled most beauti- 
 fully. Oh, the joyous night lights that make 
 every crystal a diamond, and all that glitters 
 real gold! What an effect those lights have 
 had upon the history of mankind! And what 
 a temptation it is to speculate upon them and 
 let the imagination ramble! 
 
 But we must neither speculate nor ramble. 
 We have Lapidowitz to deal with. 
 
 At the entrance to Excelsior Hall he was 
 stopped by an attendant, who asked him to 
 show his ticket. 
 
 "Tell Mrs. Barish," said Lapidowitz, "dot 
 a chentleman here iss vot got a present for her 
 little boy." 
 
 A bar mitzvah party is given to celebrate the 
 fact that a boy has reached the age of thirteen 
 and become a full-fledged communicant of the 
 Jewish church. And the attendant could not 
 help admiring Lapidowitz. He delivered the 
 message and returned with the answer, ' ' ' Any- 
 body/ she says, 'vot got a present for Jakey iss 
 welcome!' " 
 
 And a few moments later, Lapidowitz, after 
 elbowing his way through a dense throng, pre-
 
 218 With the Best Intention 
 
 sented the sleeve-buttons to the heir of the 
 house of Barish and received Mrs. Barish's ful- 
 some thanks. 
 
 "Six times I said to my husband to invite 
 you," she explained, "und efry time he forget 
 it." 
 
 "A invitation," replied Lapidowitz, grandly, 
 "iss not in my mind. But such a sveet little 
 boy vot you got should haf efryt'ing vot I can 
 gif him. ' ' 
 
 Inasmuch as this sentiment reflected the ex- 
 act feeling of the boy's mother she beamed cor- 
 dially upon the schnorrer. "In der corner," 
 she said, "a table iss vit' sandviches und cakes. 
 You should go und eat all you can." 
 
 Lapidowitz lost no time in finding this table, 
 and after eating all he could hold he filled his 
 pockets with sandwiches and slices of cold meat. 
 A hand fell upon his shoulder and he turned to 
 behold the tear-stained countenance of his host. 
 
 "Nefer vill I forgif myself," said Barish, in 
 a broken voice, "for not inviting you. My vife 
 hass told me vot a beautiful present you gif to 
 Jakey. Oh, Lapidowitz, diss iss such a happy 
 night in my life. ' ' 
 
 "Der last cent vot I got," said Lapidowitz, 
 hastily cramming half a chicken into his coat
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 219 
 
 pocket, "I gif for dot lufly boy vot you got. 
 Sveet little Jakey!" 
 
 Lapidowitz paused to rub his handkerchief 
 over his eyes, whereupon Barish fell upon his 
 shoulder and wept outright. 
 
 "Say, Mr. Barish, " Lapidowitz went on, 
 clutching his host tightly, "I got a fine chancet 
 to make tventy-five dollars a month by collect- 
 ing rents. Only two hundret dollars I need for 
 segurity. You my old friend, der papa uf 
 sveet little Jakey you surely vill help me." 
 
 Barish broke loose from the schnorrer's em- 
 brace and drew out his pocketbook. He handed 
 Lapidowitz three dollars. "From der bottom 
 uf my heart !" he said. "You pay it back next 
 veek if you like. Excuse me now because I 
 must talk to efrybody." 
 
 Lapidowitz espied Lubarsky, the wealthy 
 real-estate dealer, drinking champagne at one 
 of the side tables. He leaned over his shoulder 
 and whispered to him, "Could I see you for a 
 minute about a bizness?" he asked. 
 
 Lubarsky turned, saw who it was, and ex- 
 claimed jovially: "Hello, Lapidowitz! How 
 did you get in? Sit down and haf a drink to 
 little Jakey 's health." 
 
 Lapidowitz shook his head. "I nefer drink
 
 220 "With the Best Intention 
 
 ven I got bizness on der brain, Mr. Lubarsky. 
 Listen! Such a chancet vot I got to make 
 tventy-five dollars a month! All I need is " 
 
 ''Money," interrupted Lubarsky. "Sit 
 down, Lapidowitz. Here iss five dollars. Not 
 a cent more. Dot makes forty-six vot you owe 
 me. Now sit down und haf a glass uf cham- 
 pagne und shut up und be a chentleman. If it 
 vosn't a bar mitzvah party I vouldn't gif you 
 a cent." 
 
 Lapidowitz pocketed the money and hastened 
 across the room. He had caught sight of the 
 widow Poliansky making her way through the 
 crowd toward the supper-table. She greeted 
 him cordially. 
 
 ''Dear Mr. Lapidowitz!" she exclaimed in 
 Yiddish. "Come along with me, and we will 
 eat some cold chicken together. I love cold 
 chicken when I'm hungry!" 
 
 By the time they reached the table, it had been 
 entirely relieved of its burden of cold chicken. 
 But Lapidowitz, with a mischievous smile, whis- 
 pered into the widow's ear, "Come over to a 
 quiet corner, and I will show you a surprise." 
 
 When they had found a nook where no one 
 could overhear them, Lapidowitz drew half a 
 chicken from his pocket.
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 221 
 
 "I kept it for you!" lie said unblushingly. 
 "I knew you liked cold chicken, and I knew if 
 you didn't come soon it would all be gone." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Lapidowitz!" cried the widow. 
 
 His gallantry overwhelmed her, and she could 
 do nothing but gaze at him with soulful eyes. 
 In spite of the irregularity of her features she 
 really had nice eyes and was very lavish in her 
 use of them. Lapidowitz tried to project his 
 soul into his eyes as he returned her gaze. 
 "Mrs. Poliansky, " he said, "you are a fine busi- 
 ness lady, and maybe you can give me some ad- 
 vice. I have such a fine chance to make tventy- 
 five dollars a month oh, so easy! if I only 
 could raise two hundred dollars for security. 
 If I had a regular income like that the first 
 thing I would think of is to get married. Now 
 what would you advise me to do?" He drew a 
 sandwich from his pocket and began to eat it. 
 
 "I think it would be a good thing for you to 
 get married," answered the widow. "Every 
 man when he is as old as you are should be 
 married. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, but what I mean is, what would you 
 advise me to do about getting two hundred dol- 
 lars?" 
 
 The widow, her mouth full of cold chicken,
 
 222 With the Best Intention 
 
 looked around the room. "Over there is Mr. 
 Semel and Mr. Liebenstein and Mr. Gordonsky 
 and Mr. Barish and Mr. Lubarsky. They could 
 easily afford to lend you two hundred dollars. 
 Mr. Semel is my banker, and I know he is very 
 rich. I would lend it myself only my husband 
 made me promise before he died that I never 
 would lend a cent to any man until I got mar- 
 ried again." 
 
 Lapidowitz looked at her reproachfully. "I 
 will do what you say, ' ' said he. 1 1 1 will ask Mr. 
 Semel for the money. And if I get the job I 
 will come around to see you." 
 
 "I will be so glad to see you," said the widow 
 with a coquettish smile. 
 
 * ' The homely old hag ! ' ' muttered Lapidowitz 
 as he left her side. "I would have to be hun- 
 gry before I married her." 
 
 He had never attempted to borrow money of 
 Mr. Semel. The banker's reputation for gen- 
 erosity was not such as to encourage a prospec- 
 tive borrower. But Lapidowitz was deter- 
 mined to leave no chance untried, and seeing 
 Semel lounging idly against the wall, smoking 
 and apparently in genial humour, approached 
 him boldly.
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 223 
 
 "Mr. Semel," lie said, "I haf came to talk 
 bizness." 
 
 Semel 's whole attitude seemed to stiffen, and 
 his lips closed tightly upon his cigar. 
 
 "I need two hundert dollars," continued the 
 schnorrer. "You haf lots uf money. Two 
 hundret dollars make no difference vit' you. 
 Vit' me it means a job for tventy-five dollars 
 a month. Now vot I vould like to say " 
 
 "Vait a minute," said Semel, taking a roll of 
 bills from his pocket. "Chust vait vun min- 
 ute." He counted the money carefully. Then 
 he took from the roll a dollar bill. "If you 
 don't tell me any more about der scheme," he 
 said, "I gif you a dollar. If you don't like it, 
 den I listen because I got not 'ing else to do. But 
 you don't get a cent. I haf two schnorrer s vot 
 come to me efry veek, unt vit' dem I haf 
 enough. ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz took the dollar and silently cursed 
 Semel from Dan to Beersheba. After that he 
 tried Gordonsky, Liebenstein, and a dozen oth- 
 ers. The festive spirit of the evening seemed 
 to have the effect of making them all generous. 
 The two-hundred-dollar proposition no one 
 seemed to take seriously, but the net result of
 
 224 With the Best Intention 
 
 the night's work was that Lapidowitz left Ex- 
 celsior Hall with nearly forty dollars in his 
 pocket. 
 
 All that night he could not sleep. He tried 
 to think of a way to overcome the real-estate 
 agent's insistence upon security, but no promis- 
 ing scheme occurred to him. The best he could 
 think of was to tell the man exactly how matters 
 stood with him and how much he needed just 
 such work. 
 
 It was a weary Lapidowitz who sat in Tomp- 
 kins Square the following night. He waited 
 nearly an hour, never taking his eyes from the 
 door of the tenement-house across the street. 
 Then he heard a cheerful voice greeting him 
 and, turning, beheld his acquaintance approach- 
 ing from the rear. 
 
 "I fought you nefer vould come," he ex- 
 claimed. "All der time I haf been vatching 
 der house." 
 
 "Oh, I've been in there half a dozen times," 
 said the stranger wearily. "I guess that fel- 
 low doesn't intend to pay the rent. I'll have 
 to put him out, because I can't keep on coming 
 down from the Bronx every day just for one 
 rent. "Well, would you like to collect them for
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 225 
 
 me! I've been inquiring about you, and they 
 tell me you're pretty well known on the East 
 Side, so I guess you're all right. But I'll have 
 to have security just the same. Business is 
 business, you know." 
 
 Lapidowitz told him that he had been unable 
 to raise two hundred dollars, and the man's face 
 fell. 
 
 "I done der best I could," said Lapidowitz 
 eagerly. "But der best friends vot I got iss 
 not in der city just now. Maybe if you let me 
 try it just vunce den you von't need no se- 
 gurity." 
 
 The man frowned and focused his one eye 
 upon Lapidowitz. "How much could you 
 raise?" he asked. 
 
 Lapidowitz produced the spoils of the pre- 
 vious evening. " T 'oity-eight dollars is der 
 best I could do," said he. 
 
 For several minutes the one-eyed man seemed 
 to ponder over the matter, and then, "Well," 
 said he, "I guess you meant well, and I'll give 
 you a trial. But I can't let you collect all the 
 rents. Here, let me have the money and I'll 
 fix the thing up for you. ' ' 
 
 He drew from his pocket two sheets of paper, 
 upon one of which he scribbled a few words.
 
 226 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Here's a receipt that I had made out for 
 your deposit. I had two hundred dollars in it, 
 but I've changed it to thirty-eight. You see, 
 you get interest at six per cent., because I'm 
 only keeping the money as security, and I don't 
 want to make any profit out of it. Now here's 
 an order from me to all the tenants to pay the 
 rent to you and a list of the names and the 
 amount each one must pay. But I only want 
 you to collect the first six rents next month. I '11 
 have to come down here anyway, and I want 
 to see how you get along. After that we will 
 see what we will see!" 
 
 Lapidowitz's heart leaped with joy. ''Mis- 
 ter," he said, "nefer vill you be sorry. I col- 
 lect dem rents so fast you nefer vill haf to come 
 down from der Bronnix. Vot iss der name uf 
 der man vot hass not yet paid?" 
 
 The man mused a moment, then, " That's a 
 good idea," he said. "You might start in with 
 him. But don't go to-night. Wait until to- 
 morrow morning, and then catch him before he 
 leaves the house. His name is Bosenstein, and 
 he lives on the top floor. And here is a card 
 with my name and address. You can put the 
 money in your bank and send me a check for it. 
 Take off five per cent, for your commission, and
 
 Lapidowitz Meets Greek 227 
 
 then I take off five per cent, for mine. Thank 
 God, I won't have to come down here so often 
 after this." 
 
 From the card Lapidowitz learned that the 
 man's name was Thomas Jones. He shook Mr. 
 Thomas Jones's hand with great ardour. 
 
 That night Lapidowitz went to bed a happy 
 man. Once more he was free of the necessity 
 of working. Upon twenty-five dollars a month 
 he could live in the idleness that he craved until 
 something better turned up. And when he 
 thought of the widow Poliansky he actually 
 grinned. She could jump off a dock before he 
 would marry her. 
 
 Why dwell upon the awaking? Six times the 
 owner of the tenement-house, who lived on the 
 first floor, told Lapidowitz that there was no 
 such person as Eosenstein in the house, that 
 he collected his own rents, and that he had never 
 seen a one-eyed man by the name of Jones. 
 Those who live by their wits are slow to grasp 
 the fact that they have been outwitted. Lapi- 
 dowitz 's mind had been bent so intently upon 
 his own lazy ambition that he had never given 
 a thought to the integrity of the one-eyed man. 
 
 He returned to the bench in Tompkins Square 
 and went over every detail of his negotiations
 
 228 With the Best Intention 
 
 with Mr. Thomas Jones. And when the truth 
 dawned upon him he was too crestfallen even to 
 feel keenly resentful. He went to the nearest 
 police station and told his story. 
 
 "We'll see what we can do," said the officer 
 at the desk, "but there isn't much hope. It's 
 a new game, and I guess the chap doesn't be- 
 long around here. I '11 bet he 's an amateur and 
 not a professional." 
 
 "A amateur?" repeated Lapidowitz incredu- 
 lously. ' * He done it so good ! ' ' 
 
 With bowed head and dejected mien Lapido- 
 witz walked slowly to the widow Poliansky's 
 house. The worst had come to the worst. Be- 
 fore he could open his mouth she rushed toward 
 him and laid her hands upon his shoulder. 
 
 "I told Mr. Semel," she cried, "I was going 
 to give you a kiss as soon as I saw you. And he 
 says he ain't jealous. So soon as you went 
 away he comes to me and asks me why I was 
 talking so much to you. And when I told him 
 everything he said I had such a good heart he 
 wants to marry me. So, dear Mr. Lapidowitz 
 who brought me such happiness, you can have 
 one kiss!" 
 
 But Lapidowitz, heedless of her pouting lips, 
 turned and fled.
 
 xn 
 
 Knight Takes Queen 
 
 THE Talmud lays great stress upon wis- 
 dom. Why this is so, I do not know I 
 have never been able to make out exactly what 
 wisdom is. The life of a cow has always ap- 
 pealed to me as a perfectly rounded existence 
 where all the qualities that pertain to the 
 creature are developed to their fullest capacity. 
 The cow fulfils its destiny beautifully, but inas- 
 much as the cow is never advanced as an ex- 
 ample of wisdom it must be that a perfectly 
 rounded existence and the fullest development 
 of a creature's faculties do not constitute all 
 that there is of wisdom. There must be some- 
 thing more. 
 
 I submit all this to the cogitation of any 
 philosopher who cares to cogitate upon it. It 
 is merely a reflection that comes to the mind 
 apropos of the story of Solomon Kafka. 
 
 Solomon Kafka or " Solly " Kafka, as every 
 one called him was a student of the Talmud 
 
 229
 
 230 With the Best Intention 
 
 and, as such, was supposed by his parents and 
 by all who were interested in his career to ab- 
 sorb endless wisdom from that wonderful work. 
 A pious uncle had bequeathed his possessions to 
 the Kafkas upon the condition that Solly become 
 a rabbi. Solly would have liked to argue the 
 matter with his uncle, but as his uncle was dead 
 it was, of course, impossible to argue with him. 
 Once Solly suggested that they get a lawyer to 
 prove that his uncle was crazy when he made his 
 will, but his parents would not hear of it. 
 Nothing remained, therefore, but for Solly to 
 buckle down to the study of the Torah and the 
 Talmud, the cabala and other such fonts of 
 wisdom. 
 
 It is undeniably a great thing to feel yourself 
 growing wiser and wiser and to find that your 
 former companions and even your parents look 
 upon you with a feeling akin to awe. Even in 
 the Ghetto a " student of divinity" is treated 
 with more respect than a student of bricklaying, 
 it being taken for granted that the student ab- 
 sorbs the dignity of his study. In a measure 
 this attitude of his little world rather pleased 
 Solly. He was far from being an ascetic; the 
 warmth of friendship, the pleasure of compan- 
 ionship, indulgence in the good things of life,
 
 Knight Takes Queen 231 
 
 all appealed to his nature. Yet the subtle flat- 
 tery involved in the respectful attitude toward 
 him of all his friends and acquaintances might 
 have compensated for his feeling of aloofness 
 and isolation, and Solly might gradually have 
 developed into one of your real, austere, su- 
 perior rabbis, if something had not happened. 
 Her name was Josephine Greenberg, and her 
 eyes were brown, and she had the tiniest rose- 
 bud of a mouth and the most wonderful mass of 
 shimmering hair that you ever saw. And when 
 you gazed into her eyes you could see right 
 through to her wonderful soul at least Solly 
 could and you would have staked your life on 
 the sweetness and the goodness and the spiritu- 
 ality of her nature. If you looked very long, 
 however, her eyes, perhaps, would twinkle and 
 a slight dimple appear in the middle of each 
 cheek, and some doubts might arise in your mind 
 about her spirituality. To Solly, however, she 
 was perfection. When, after meeting her, 
 Solly read in the Talmud, "If a man has knowl- 
 edge, he has all things, ' ' Solly said things about 
 the Talmud that would not have sounded nice at 
 a rabbinical conference. Not that Solly un- 
 derrated the value of knowledge ; he merely de- 
 spised the Talmud for underrating Josephine,
 
 232 With the Best Intention 
 
 for he was sure that without Josephine he would 
 have nothing and with her he would have all 
 that he cared for in life. 
 
 It took but little time for Solly to meet Jo- 
 sephine, to fall in love with her, to ask her fa- 
 ther for her hand, and to he informed that Mr. 
 Greenberg would as soon think of jumping off 
 a dock as to allow his daughter to marry a rab- 
 binical student, or for that matter, a full-fledged 
 rabbi. 
 
 It took somewhat longer to think this over 
 and digest it; but after a week of thinking and 
 digesting, Solly found that he had made no 
 progress, and when, one night, he met Josephine 
 at a ball and, in the shadow of a sideboard laden 
 with refreshments, found an opportunity of 
 conversing with her, he asked her if she would 
 elope with him. 
 
 "No, Solly," she said. "Papa made me 
 promise that I would not marry without his con- 
 sent. I told him I loved you and that I would 
 never marry any one else." 
 
 "But he had no right to ask you to make such 
 a promise," said Solly. "And you have no 
 right to keep it. I'm going to him now and 
 tell him what I think." 
 
 But Josephine detained him. "Don't go to
 
 Knight Takes Queen 233 
 
 him now. He's cranky. Do you play chess?" 
 
 "Chess?" said Solly. "No. What's that 
 got to do with it?" 
 
 "Because papa's crazy about chess. He 
 plays in the Orient Cafe on Second Avenue 
 every afternoon and every night. He's awfully 
 mad because mamma made him come to the ball 
 with us. He wants to play chess. If you go to 
 the cafe some afternoon and find him in a good 
 humour, maybe you can have a talk with him. ' ' 
 
 Then Solly kissed her and told her she was an 
 angel and a smart angel at that. The next 
 afternoon Solly found Greenberg in the Orient 
 Cafe, studying a chess problem. 
 
 "Hello, Mr. Greenberg," he said. "Are you 
 busy?" 
 
 Greenberg looked up. ' * Do you play chess ? ' ' 
 he asked. 
 
 Solly shook his head. 
 
 "Yes, I'm busy," said Greenberg. 
 
 "I'd like to speak to you about Josephine," 
 said Solly. 
 
 "When I'm busy," said Greenberg, "I talk 
 about nothing. Maybe you'd better be spend- 
 ing your time studying your Talmud. ' ' 
 
 Solly, discomfited, withdrew to another table 
 and rapped for a waiter. An old acquaintance
 
 234 With the Best Intention 
 
 of his, Lapidowitz, the schnorrer, appeared be- 
 fore him with a napkin over his arm. 
 
 ''Hello, Lapidowitz," exclaimed Solly. 
 "What are you doing here?" 
 
 "I got a job. I'm a waiter," explained the 
 schnorrer. "When I get a little money saved 
 up I buy a place of my own. I'm only getting 
 experience here. If you happen to have five " 
 
 But Solly shook his head. "You never paid 
 back the last five dollars I lent you. Never 
 mind don't explain. Bring me a cup of 
 coffee." 
 
 When the coffee was set before him, Solly 
 said to the schnorrer, "Do you play chess?" 
 
 Lapidowitz shook his head. "I know the 
 moves," said he, "and play a little, but I ain't 
 what you'd call a player." 
 
 "Do you know anybody here who does?" 
 asked Solly. "I want to learn how to play it." 
 
 Lapidowitz surveyed the room. Along the 
 wall sat half a dozen couples deeply and si- 
 lently engrossed in the game. 
 
 "They could teach you, but they're all busy 
 playing," he said. "Waitt Here's Kogofsky. 
 Maybe he '11 show you. ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz approached a rather seedy-look- 
 ing individual who had entered the cafe, and
 
 Knight Takes Queen 235 
 
 whispered to him. The man inspected Solly 
 critically and whispered in Lapidowitz's ear. 
 
 1 'He says," said Lapidowitz, approaching 
 Solly, "he'll be glad to teach you chess if you 
 treat him to three cups of coffee." 
 
 Solly accepted the offer, and a few moments 
 later was receiving his first lesson in the royal 
 and intricate game of chess. 
 
 "It is a game of brains," explained his in- 
 structor. This pleased Solly immensely, be- 
 cause he felt that the wisdom that he had im- 
 bibed from the Talmud would now come to his 
 aid. He concentrated all his mental efforts 
 upon the game. After an hour he felt thor- 
 oughly bewildered. He had not believed it pos- 
 sible that so small a number of pieces could 
 move in so many different and complicated 
 ways, and he wondered how any human being 
 could remember it all, let alone see any rhyme 
 or reason in the game. As soon as his instruc- 
 tor had finished his third cup of coffee he an- 
 nounced the lesson at an end. He advised 
 Solly to buy a book on chess and practise by 
 himself for a while. 
 
 "To-morrow, if you like," he said, "I will 
 come here and have a cup of coffee with you." 
 
 Solly purchased a book and set of chessmen,
 
 236 With the Best Intention 
 
 and sat up the greater part of the night study- 
 ing the game. The next day he appeared at 
 the Orient Cafe again, and took another lesson 
 from Rogofsky, this time a long one during 
 which he purchased four cups of coffee for 
 his instructor. To his delight he now began 
 to see order in the chaos of moves and rules, 
 and some of the beauty of the game began to 
 dawn upon him. That night he studied again, 
 and the following day he approached Green- 
 berg. 
 
 "Can't we have a little talk, Mr. Greenberg?" 
 he asked. "You know how I feel about Jose- 
 phine, and you know " 
 
 "I know I'm busy trying to think out a 
 problem and you are bothering me," replied 
 Greenberg. 
 
 "I'll play you a game of chess!" said Solly 
 abruptly. 
 
 Greenberg peered at him over the rim of his 
 spectacles. "I thought you said you didn't 
 play?" 
 
 "I've been learning," said Solly. "I'm in- 
 terested in chess very much. After Josephine 
 and I are married, you and I will often play 
 chess." 
 
 Greenberg turned quite red, but said noth-
 
 Knight Takes Queen 237 
 
 ing. Solly set up the pieces, and they began 
 to play. From time to time Greenberg looked 
 up from the chess-board and studied Solly's 
 face while the latter was contemplating a move, 
 but his own countenance was inscrutable. 
 Within a dozen moves Solly had captured his 
 adversary's queen, a rook, and a knight, and 
 his spirits had begun to soar when, in the most 
 sudden and unexpected fashion, he found him- 
 self mated. Without a word Greenberg picked 
 up the periodical that he had been reading and 
 resumed his study of a chess problem, while 
 Solly, chagrined, went to another table and 
 waited for his chess-instructor. As soon as 
 Eogofsky entered the cafe Solly beckoned to 
 him and asked him to have a cup of coffee. 
 
 " Listen," he said. "Did you ever play with 
 Mr. Greenberg, over there?" 
 
 "Oh, sure. Lots of times," answered Ro- 
 gofsky. 
 
 "Now suppose I make an arrangement with 
 you. How long would it take you to teach me 
 to play chess so that I could beat him?" 
 
 "Me?" asked Eogofsky, grinning. "About 
 ten million years. He is the best player around 
 here. He can give me a queen and beat me." 
 
 Solly turned and gazed at Greenberg with
 
 238 With the Best Intention 
 
 renewed interest. It had already dawned upon 
 him that the kind of brains required to play 
 chess were not fed on the Talmud. It was 
 the first time that he had ever admired Green- 
 berg. 
 
 "Can't anybody beat him?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes. Some of those crack players 
 they've got at the Montefiore Chess Club. But 
 it takes a professional to do it. He 's too strong 
 for the amateurs. " 
 
 "Thanks," said Solly. Kogofsky toyed with 
 his empty cup and looked pleadingly at Solly, 
 but Solly rose and left the place. He was 
 through with Bogofsky. 
 
 He spent half an hour walking the streets, 
 thinking. What his thoughts were I do not 
 know. From the smile upon his face that made 
 passers-by look at him in amazement and won- 
 der if he were out of his mind it is fair to judge 
 that he was not thinking of the Talmud. 
 There is nothing in the Talmud to smile about. 
 He came to a sudden stop and burst out laugh- 
 ing. Then he hastened to the little cafe on 
 upper Second Avenue where the Montefiore 
 Chess Club met and asked one of the waiters, 
 
 "Who is the best player in the Montefiore 
 Chess Club?"
 
 Knight Takes Queen 239 
 
 "Mr. Nemirow, the gentleman with the grey 
 beard sitting over there," was the answer. 
 
 Solly looked in the direction indicated, and 
 saw an amiable-looking elderly man sipping a 
 cup of coffee. There seems to be an affinity be- 
 tween chess and coffee, which I also submit to 
 the cogitation of any one sufficiently interested 
 in the matter to cogitate upon it. 
 
 "Is this Mr. Nemirow, the great chess- 
 player?" asked Solly, in the most ingratiating 
 tone he could assume. 
 
 The man looked up with a pleasant smile. 
 "At your service,'* he said. "Do you wish to 
 play a game?" 
 
 "Oh, Lord, no!" said Solly hastily. "I- 
 I wanted to do you happen to know Mr. Green- 
 berg Mr. Abraham Greenberg, the chess- 
 player?" 
 
 Mr. Nemirow shook his head. "I'm sorry. 
 I haven't the pleasure," he said. 
 
 "That's fine," said Solly, seating himself op- 
 posite the chess-player. "Now, Mr. Nerairow, 
 I'm going to ask you to do me a great favour. 
 You see I well, you were young yourself 
 once, weren't you?" 
 
 Mr. Nemirow laid down the spoon that he 
 had been toying with, folded his arms across
 
 240 With the Best Intention 
 
 
 
 Ms breast, and gazed upon Solly with great in- 
 terest. "Yes," he said, smiling, "you are per- 
 fectly right. I was born young. ' ' 
 
 Then they both laughed, and there was some- 
 thing in Solly's laugh that made Mr. Nemirow 
 lean forward and say: 
 
 a lf I can do anything for you it would really 
 please me. What is on your mind?" 
 
 Solly, as rapidly as he could, told all about 
 himself, told the story of how he had met Jose- 
 phine and how obdurate her father was in his 
 opposition to their marriage. He then de- 
 scribed his efforts to learn the game of chess. 
 
 "You see," he went on, "I thought if I could 
 learn to be a good player I'd say to him in an 
 offhand way: 'Mr. Greenberg, I'll tell you 
 what I'll do. We'll play a game of chess, and 
 if I win you'll let me marry Josephine, and 
 we'll say no more about it. But if you win I'll 
 go out to Chicago and finish my studies out 
 there, and I'll never ask you again.' You see, 
 he beat me the first game I played with him, 
 and I know he 'd feel so sure of beating me again 
 that he would be willing to get rid of me in such 
 an easy way. But they say he's a terribly 
 strong player, and I know I couldn't beat him 
 if I tried a thousand years. So I want to get
 
 Knight Takes Queen 241 
 
 Borne one to help me out. If if I could get a 
 really first-class player to come and sit in a 
 corner of the cafe and tell me what moves to 
 make, Mr. Greenberg wouldn't know anything 
 about it and I could win the game. He never 
 would suspect anything, and in the afternoon 
 there 's hardly anybody in the place, so that no- 
 body else would notice anything. I know just 
 how to arrange it. There 's a waiter there who 's 
 a friend of mine, and he could carry the moves 
 back and forth. And and " 
 
 Here Solly paused for the simple reason that 
 he had nothing further to say, and gazed ea- 
 gerly at the face of Mr. Nemirow. The chess- 
 player seemed to be trying to swallow some- 
 thing. 
 
 "You are studying to be a rabbi?" he finally 
 said. Solly grinned, and the next moment Mr. 
 .Nemirow burst into a roar of laughter that 
 seemed to fill the entire room. "Ha! Ha! 
 Ha!" he cried. "That's the richest thing I 
 ever heard of in all my life. And from a rab- 
 binical student ! Ha ! Ha ! I don 't think I '11 
 ever get over it ! And after you Ve bamboozled 
 the old man you'll marry his daughter. Ho! 
 Ho! Ho! That's rich!" 
 
 He paused to wipe the tears from his eyes.
 
 242 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Well, my son," he said, "if you're looking 
 for a chess-player who's foolish and criminal 
 enough to go into such a scheme you've found 
 him. I 'd do it if I went to prison for it, if only 
 for the joke." And he went off into another 
 spasm of laughter. 
 
 During the long chat that followed, Solly and 
 Mr. Nemirow became well acquainted with each 
 other. There was something engaging in the 
 younger man's frankness that appealed to the 
 chess-player. 
 
 "To tell you the truth," Solly explained, "I 
 haven't the faintest idea of being a rabbi. All 
 that my uncle said in his will was that I should 
 study for it and become a rabbi. After I've 
 studied for it and have been a rabbi for half 
 an hour I get the money he left, and then I'm 
 going into business. But if I tell that to my 
 mother now she'd make an awful fuss. I 
 wanted to explain it all to Mr. Greenberg, but 
 he never would give me a chance. I guess he 
 thinks I'm an awful fool." 
 
 Mr. Nemirow even went so far as to play a 
 game of chess with Solly, but after a few moves 
 said: 
 
 "I guess you're right. You'll never make a 
 chess-player. You have brains enough, but it
 
 Knight Takes Queen 243 
 
 takes a special kind of chess-brains to play 
 chess.'* 
 
 Solly returned to the Orient Cafe and took 
 Lapidowitz aside. He explained the situation 
 to him without, however, telling him the reason 
 for playing such a joke on Greenberg. It ap- 
 pealed strongly to Lapidowitz 's sense of 
 humour, and he agreed heartily to fulfil his part. 
 
 When Greenberg appeared at the cafe on the 
 following day, there were but two customers in 
 the place. One was Solly Kafka, sitting on the 
 leather settee against the wall in Greenberg 's 
 favourite seat, and the other was a grey-bearded 
 stranger sitting in another angle of the room, 
 apparently deeply immersed in a book that he 
 held in his hand. 
 
 Greenberg, annoyed at finding another in the 
 seat that he had come to look upon as pecul- 
 iarly his own, was looking around the room to 
 find a comfortable place when Solly called to 
 him, 
 
 "Won't you play a game of chess with me, 
 Mr. Greenberg?" 
 
 "But you can't play," said Greenberg, ap- 
 proaching Solly's table, nevertheless. A good 
 chess-player, you see, hates to play with a 
 weaker opponent, but would rather play with
 
 244 With the Best Intention 
 
 any opponent than not play at all. "You play 
 like a like a rabbi," he went on, seating him- 
 self opposite Solly. 
 
 "Mr. Greenberg," said Solly solemnly, "I'll 
 tell you what I'll do. I'll play you one game of 
 chess, and if you win I'm going out to Chicago, 
 and I'll never ask you for Josephine again. 
 But if you lose you will let us get married next 
 week and say no more about it. That's fair, 
 isn't it? I know you're a good player, but I've 
 been thinking a lot about chess since we played, 
 and I think you're going to lose." 
 
 Greenberg, who had been staring at Solly 
 over the rim of his spectacles, now turned and 
 looked around the room as if seeking a witness 
 to Solly's sudden insanity. There was no one 
 in sight, however, except Lapidowitz, the waiter. 
 Then Greenberg stroked his chin and gazed at 
 Solly. 
 
 "I think " he began, and paused. Then a 
 twinkle came into his eyes, and he smiled. 
 "Come," he said, "I agree. I always thought 
 you were a foolish young man. But if you win 
 you can marry Josie. If not, I never want to 
 see you again." 
 
 Lapidowitz, who had come close to the table,
 
 Knight Takes Queen 245 
 
 overheard him and his mouth opened wide. He 
 looked at Solly with the utmost admiration. 
 
 "So this was the object of the joke!" he 
 thought. "The young man wants to marry 
 Greenberg 's daughter. Oh, ho ! What a smart 
 young man he must be!" 
 
 Lapidowitz admired smartness above all 
 other human qualities. He brought a set of 
 chess-men and helped to set them up. Then, 
 when Greenberg had made a couple of moves, 
 Lapidowitz stole around the angle of the wall 
 and whispered to the grey-bearded stranger 
 who appeared to be studying the contents of a 
 book. The stranger laid down his book, re- 
 vealing an opened pocket chess-board held be- 
 tween its pages, and wrote upon a slate, 
 
 "KttoKBS." 
 
 Lapidowitz took the slate and, sauntering to- 
 ward the table at which Solly and Greenberg 
 were playing, held it aloft. Solly looked up, 
 saw it, and promptly made his move. Then 
 Lapidowitz approached nearer to the table and 
 waited for Greenberg to move. When Green- 
 berg had moved, Lapidowitz went through the 
 same performance. Greenberg was so absorbed
 
 246 With the Best Intention 
 
 in the game that for a long time he did not take 
 his eyes from the board. Then, turning sud- 
 denly, and beholding Lapidowitz, slate in hand, 
 eagerly watching the game, he said to the 
 waiter, 
 
 " Interested in chess?" 
 
 "Terribly!" answered Lapidowitz, una- 
 bashed. "I would rather see a good game of 
 chess than eat." 
 
 The game rapidly developed a most interest- 
 ing situation, and Greenberg, with his hand upon 
 his chin, nodded a great many times, his eyes 
 never leaving the board. 
 
 "You play a strong game, Solly," lie said 
 musingly. Solly's heart leaped with joy. 
 Greenberg had never addressed him so inti- 
 mately before. As far as the game was con- 
 cerned he was all at sea. Like the third as- 
 sistant deputy clerk in the prime minister's of- 
 fice he had a vague idea that the orders he was 
 mechanically executing were, each one of them, 
 part of some big scheme, but what that scheme 
 was he had not the remotest idea. 
 
 The game had reached a critical point. 
 Greenberg, after long deliberation, had made 
 his move, and Lapidowitz had carried it around 
 the angle of the room. This time the waiter
 
 Lapidowitz held aloft his slate. Solly read: "The $5 1 ast you 
 for I need bad. Kant you slip it in my hand?"
 
 Knight Takes Queen 247 
 
 was gone longer than usual, and Solly, who had 
 not the faintest idea of how the game stood, be- 
 gan to worry. Supposing that, after all, Green- 
 berg should win ! He had pledged his word to 
 go to Chicago and never ask for Josephine's 
 hand again. The perspiration stood upon 
 Solly's brow. And at that moment Lapidowitz 
 reappeared and held aloft his slate, upon which, 
 written in Lapidowitz 's best English, Solly 
 read: 
 
 The $5 I ast you for I need bad. Kant you slip it 
 in my hand ? 
 
 If the complete history of human thought is 
 ever written I warrant that we will all be sur- 
 prised to find how strongly the great majority 
 of the race have, at various times, been tempted 
 to commit murder. The temptation to commit 
 this crime comes to most of us under a provoca- 
 tion which, to the rest of mankind, would appear 
 slight, yet which, to us, considering the time and 
 the place and the circumstances, is a greater 
 provocation than any which the law would rec- 
 ognise with leniency. The consequences of this 
 terrible crime did not occur to Solly Kafka at 
 this moment. His mind was too fully occupied 
 with methods of accomplishing it. He looked
 
 248 With the Best Intention 
 
 at his opponent. Greenberg, apparently in a 
 deep study, had taken his eyes from the chess- 
 board and was gazing abstractedly at a picture 
 of George Washington that hung on the wall 
 over Solly's head. 
 
 " Excuse me a moment," said Solly, rising. 
 "I have to telephone." And, to Lapidowitz, 
 "Come with me, waiter, and show me where the 
 telephone is." 
 
 Lapidowitz led the way around the angle of 
 the room to the desk of the cafe As soon as 
 they were out of sight of Greenberg, Solly 
 seized Lapidowitz by the arm and led him into 
 a rear room. 
 
 * ' This won 't do, ' ' he said. ' ' All my money is 
 in silver, and Greenberg will hear it jingle. 
 Where can we go so that nobody will hear a 
 sound?" 
 
 Lapidowitz smiled. "Come with me," he 
 whispered. He led Solly out into a hallway and 
 down a flight of steps into the cellar of the 
 building. 
 
 "This will do," said Solly. At one and the 
 same time his right hand clutched the schnorrer 
 by the throat and his left leg threw the schnorrer 
 to the ground. Solly prefaced his remarks with 
 a few very un-rabbinical words.
 
 Knight Takes Queen 249 
 
 "Now," he said, "you'll swear on the Torah 
 and the Talmud to carry out your promise and 
 keep your mouth shut." 
 
 Lapidowitz, gasping for breath, swore. 
 
 "Hurry up and get that next move," said 
 Solly, releasing him and running up the stairs. 
 A few minutes later Lapidowitz stood behind 
 Greenberg's back holding up a slate upon which 
 Solly read : 
 
 Q to R4 only for to-nite I promist. To-morro I get 
 evin. 
 
 Solly, with a sigh of relief, moved his queen 
 to rook's fourth, and a few minutes later Green- 
 berg arose. 
 
 "I give up," he said. "You play a fine 
 game, Solly. Come around to-morrow night 
 and see Josie. You are a citizen, ain't 
 you ! ' ' 
 
 "Sure I am," said Solly, in surprise. "I 
 was born here. ' ' 
 
 Greenberg pointed to the picture of George 
 Washington and grinned. "He wasn't a 
 rabbi," he said. "Just a good citizen. Good 
 afternoon!" 
 
 The grey-bearded stranger who sat in the 
 cafe seemed immersed in his book, and Lapido-
 
 250 With the Best Intention 
 
 witz was waiting upon a new customer who had 
 arrived. Solly left the place walking on air. 
 
 When he called upon Josie the following 
 night, her father was not at home. Inasmuch 
 as this is not a real love story there is no need 
 of going into the details of what took place that 
 evening excepting to remark that everything 
 was ALL EIGHT. It was arranged that the 
 wedding should take place five days later. 
 When Solly returned to his home that night, he 
 found a letter from Lapidowitz. 
 
 "I kept my promis," it ran, "and nobody can 
 giv me a punch for nothing. Mister Greenberg 
 is my friend and so long as I kno every-thing 
 about you marrij and the gaim of ches I kno 
 what is my dooty. I wont sine my name but 
 you kno who is it." 
 
 If Solly Kafka had ever had any doubt as 
 the rabbinate being his vocation it surely must 
 have been dispelled at that moment. There 
 was not a single one of the thousand schemes of 
 punishment that he thought of inflicting upon 
 Lapidowitz that the poorest rabbi would not 
 have blushed at. But all these schemes Solly 
 was forced to abandon, for they were imprac- 
 ticable, and the danger of his telling Greenberg 
 the true story of the joke that had been played
 
 Knight Takes Queen 251 
 
 upon him was exceedingly real and intensely 
 practicable. For nearly two hours Solly re- 
 volved the situation in his mind. And then, 
 with a sweet smile, he went to bed. 
 
 The next morning he called Lapidowitz on the 
 telephone. "Listen," he said. "Never mind 
 about that Greenberg business. I have a big 
 scheme, and there 's a chance for me to do some- 
 thing for you. I need some one to help me, and 
 I want to give you the first chance. Ask your 
 boss for a week off. Meet me at the Grand 
 Central station to-night and bring a satchel 
 with you. We're going to Chicago. What! 
 Never mind about the money. I '11 pay all your 
 expenses. I'm in a hurry now. I've got to go 
 to the bank." 
 
 As a matter of honest fact, Solly did go to 
 the bank. And that night he met Lapidowitz at 
 the station, purchased two tickets and they left 
 on the train for Chicago. They dined on the 
 train. The story that Solly told Lapidowitz I 
 am actually ashamed to repeat, but Lapidowitz 
 swallowed every word of it. He retired to his 
 berth that night a happy man, and dreamed 
 wonderful dreams. The next morning the 
 porter handed him a letter. 
 
 ' * Dear friend Lapidowitz, ' ' it began. ' ' I had
 
 252 With the Best Intention 
 
 to get off at Rochester unexpectedly. As soon 
 as you get to Chicago go to Meyer's Kosher Ho- 
 tel and tell Mr. Meyer who you are. I tele- 
 graphed him to take care of you. Don't ask 
 him for any money. I'll either come out or 
 telegraph you in three or four days. Don't 
 worry. Our scheme is all right. Your old 
 friend, Solly." 
 
 It was a quiet wedding, and the mother of 
 the hride and the mother of the groom cried 
 to their hearts' content. While the rabhi was 
 congratulating the hride, her father took Solly 
 into an adjoining room. 
 
 "How soon are you going into business?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "As soon as I am a rabbi," said Solly, grin- 
 ning. 
 
 Greenberg smiled and nodded. "I thought 
 so," he said. "I knew you were too smart to 
 be a rabbi. What do you suppose is the mat- 
 ter with that fellow Lapidowitz?" And he 
 handed Solly a telegram: 
 
 Stop wedding till I get back Solly cheeted in ches 
 somebody else plade game will tel everything tele- 
 graph railroade fare. Lapidowitz.
 
 Knight Takes Queen 253 
 
 Solly bit his lip. "He must be crazy," he 
 said. " Anyway, it's too late to stop the wed- 
 ding." He looked at Greenberg defiantly. 
 
 Greenberg smiled and peered at him over the 
 edge of his spectacles. "Sure it is," he said. 
 "You don't think I'd stop a wedding for La- 
 pidowitz, anyway, do you?" 
 
 Solly gazed at him expectantly. There was 
 something in Greenberg 's tone that made him 
 uneasy. 
 
 "You wouldn't believe Lapidowitz anyway, 
 would you!" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no. But before you go on your 
 honeymoon, Solly, I wish you would do me one 
 favour. ' ' 
 
 "Anything in the world. Another game of 
 chess ? ' ' And Solly grinned. 
 
 Greenberg frowned. "Not with you, but 
 your friend who played that game." 
 
 Solly's mouth opened wide and, for a mo- 
 ment, he had the sensation that is said to ac- 
 company lockjaw. "Did Lapidowitz " he be- 
 gan, but his father-in-law smiled. 
 
 "Next time you try to be so smart don't have 
 the other man looking at a picture of George 
 Washington which is just the same as a look-
 
 254 With the Best Intention 
 
 ing-glass. I saw that schnorrer hold up the 
 slate and read the next move even hefore you 
 did. My ! That fellow is a fine player ! ' ' 
 
 "But how why " Solly's voice tapered off 
 into an indistinct gurgle. 
 
 "Why I didn't say anything? You dear 
 hoy ! Any man what is smart enough for such 
 a trick is too smart to be a rabbi."
 
 XIII 
 
 Klein's Financial System 
 
 IP you delve long enough into the literature 
 of ancient Greece you will probably come 
 across this proverb, 
 
 "When a woman dominates a man, the gods 
 laugh!" 
 
 I merely remember reading this quotation 
 somewhere, and deeply regret that I cannot 
 place it more accurately. If it is not in Grecian 
 literature it may be in Persian literature or 
 Aramaic or Swedish. I am quite sure that it 
 is not in the Talmud, because most of the au- 
 thors of the Talmud were married men. In 
 these days of feminine unrest this quotation 
 might, possibly, present interesting thoughts 
 for discussion as, for instance. Who cares 
 whether the gods laugh or not! Besides which, 
 as every one knows, the relation of the sexes 
 has undergone a complete change. The old 
 idea of man being the dominant, masterful crea- 
 ture and woman being selected by him to ad- 
 
 255
 
 256 With the Best Intention 
 
 minister to his pleasure and comfort has been 
 so thoroughly exploded that you could hardly 
 find a fragment of it. The New Thought, the 
 Suffrage Movement, the Bull Moose platform, 
 and the Zeitgeist have had a tremendous effect 
 upon the laws of nature, and the old order of 
 things has been changed. 
 
 I would like exceedingly to dwell upon this 
 theme and, if possible, convert those who still 
 believe in the old-fashioned order of the uni- 
 verse, but the limits of this story do not offer 
 much latitude for speculative philosophy, and 
 the reader will have to philosophise for him- 
 self. Here, however, is a story that may throw 
 some light upon the matter: 
 
 Our hero's name is Gottlieb Klein. He was 
 a garment-cutter employed by Shiras on Riv- 
 ington Street, and he received eighteen dollars 
 each week for his services. This, you must re- 
 member, was in the old days, before they had 
 unions and when the cost of living was not quite 
 so high as it is to-day. Gottlieb Klein was 
 married. By being married, I mean that he 
 had once stood before a rabbi with a woman at 
 his side and had promised to take the woman 
 to wife for better or for worse. From that
 
 Klein's Financial System 257 
 
 moment his responsibility in the matter ended, 
 and Mrs. Gottlieb Klein took charge of the situa- 
 tion. Whether the gods laughed or not, the ut- 
 most credit must be given to Mrs. Klein for the 
 skill with which she managed the affair. Dur- 
 ing the time that Klein worked each day he was 
 his own master to the extent, at least, of regu- 
 lating his own mind. 
 
 This, of course, did not include the luncheon- 
 hour in the middle of the day, because Mrs. 
 Klein always brought her husband his lunch 
 and sat with him in the shop while he ate it. 
 But at all other times his conduct was care- 
 fully regulated by his wife. She told him what 
 shirt to wear, what to read, what people to 
 invite to their home, and what people to. 
 avoid. It never occurred to Klein to resist. 
 In addition to his inherent timidity, which made 
 him dread an explosion of his wife's temper as 
 most men dread having their left leg cut off, 
 he possessed a very amiable disposition and was 
 as eager to submit to his wife of his own voli- 
 tion as through fear of her f orcefulness. All of 
 which, you see, made it an ideal union. 
 
 The fundamental law of the household was 
 that Klein must bring his wife his weekly wages
 
 258 .With the Best Intention 
 
 as soon as he received them. In addition to 
 being queen of the realm, Mrs. Klein was 
 chancellor of the exchequer. 
 
 As they lived only a few blocks from the fac- 
 tory in which Klein worked he had no need of 
 car-fare. And as his wife brought his noonday 
 meal, and purchased all his clothes and man- 
 aged all the affairs of the household and did not 
 permit her husband to drink or smoke, it would 
 have been exceedingly difficult for Klein to de- 
 vise an excuse for withholding one cent of his 
 wages. He actually had no use for money. 
 This, by the way, is an argument in favour of 
 the New Thought that never occurred to me be- 
 fore. 
 
 The existence of the Kleins had oeen run- 
 ning along serenely in this channel for ten 
 years when Gottlieb Klein took one step from 
 the beaten path of his life. Other men have oc- 
 casionally deviated from the sensible routine 
 of life and have escaped all consequences save, 
 perhaps, a twinge of remorse. The conse- 
 quences of Klein's misstep, however, were so 
 appalling that I hope all men who read this 
 will take the lesson to heart and shun, forever, 
 the primrose path. 
 
 A consignment of cloth which had been ex-
 
 Klein's Financial System 259 
 
 pected failed to arrive on time, and at four 
 o'clock 011 a Friday afternoon Shiras's cutters 
 found themselves idle. Being in good humour 
 that day, Shiras paid the men and let them go, 
 saying, with a smile, 
 
 "I give you the next three hours for a pres- 
 ent." 
 
 It was the first time in years that Klein had 
 found himself free for three hours, and he had 
 not the faintest idea what to do. Instinctively 
 he started to walk home. Mandelbaum, a fel- 
 low cutter, walked with him a few blocks and 
 then suggested that they go to a coffee-house 
 for a cup of coffee and a cake. Klein hesi- 
 tated, whereat Mandelbaum said good-natur- 
 edly: 
 
 "Nu, only ten cents! What does it matter? 
 I will treat." 
 
 There were many people in the coffee-house 
 whom Klein knew, and the atmosphere of the 
 place filled him with a pleasurable excitement 
 that he had not experienced in many a day. 
 They seated themselves at a table where a num- 
 ber of men were playing with dice. Klein 
 watched the game with interest the stakes 
 were rather high and was fascinated to see 
 one of the players a stout, black-bearded chap
 
 260 With the Best Intention 
 
 winning at every throw. Mandelbaum 
 nudged him and whispered, 
 
 "He's winning now, hut I'll het his luck will 
 change and he'll lose." 
 
 Surely enough, the tide of fortune soon be- 
 gan to turn, and one by one the other players 
 recouped their losses and began to win. But 
 with the exception of the black-bearded man the 
 players were not very courageous, for, as soon 
 as each had won a few dollars, he ceased play- 
 ing. The game seemed almost at an end. 
 Blackbeard was now the only loser, and, one 
 after another, he asked them if they would not 
 throw once more. 
 
 "I'll throw anybody for ten dollars!" he 
 said. "Just one throw out of the box." 
 
 "I'll throw!" cried Mandelbaum eagerly. 
 The man handed him the dice-box, and Mandel- 
 baum threw. He was trembling with excite- 
 ment, and Klein, looking over his shoulder and 
 marvelling at his friend's recklessness, was 
 hardly less excited. Mandelbaum threw four 
 aces. His opponent, without a word, threw a 
 pair of sixes, smiled pleasantly, and handed 
 Mandelbaum ten dollars. 
 
 "Once more?" he asked. 
 
 Mandelbaum shook his head. "You try it!"
 
 It was a pair of twos. "That looks easy," said Tm opponent, 
 and calmly threw a pair of threes

 
 Klein's Financial System 261 
 
 lie whispered eagerly, to Klein. ' ' His luck has 
 changed, and he's sure to lose." 
 
 The man heard it and turned to Klein with 
 a smile. "Come on!" he said. "I'm a good 
 sport. Win or lose is all the same to me." He 
 held out the dice-box to Klein. "Just one 
 throw for ten dollars ! " he said coaxingly. 
 
 Whether the coffee had gone to Klein's head, 
 whether the sight of money changing hands so 
 rapidly had intoxicated him, whether it was the 
 thought of easy gain that bewildered his senses, 
 or whether it was merely a sudden awakening 
 of the gambling instinct which lies hidden some- 
 where in every man's nature, are questions that 
 I doubt if Socrates himself could positively an- 
 swer. I only know that Gottlieb Klein took the 
 box in his trembling hand and, without uttering 
 a word, threw the dice upon the table. And 
 then he stared at what he had thrown, and a 
 cold sweat suddenly broke out upon his fore- 
 head. It was a pair of twos. 
 
 "That looks easy!" said his opponent, and 
 calmly threw a pair of threes. 
 
 "Too bad!" exclaimed Mandelbaum. 
 
 "Try again?" asked the winner. 
 
 It was about fifteen minutes past four on that 
 Friday afternoon that it all happened. Two
 
 262 With the Best Intention 
 
 hours later Gottlieb Klein recovered conscious- 
 ness and found that he was walking the 
 streets without any definite destination in mind. 
 His memory of what had happened since he left 
 the shop was a blinding chaos that, somehow or 
 other, seemed full of fireworks. He remem- 
 bered distinctly handing a man ten dollars of 
 his wages: all else was confused. It was the 
 sudden recollection that the ten dollars must 
 be replaced that brought him down to earth 
 again. And then Gottlieb Klein heaved a long, 
 long sigh. 
 
 "Oy! Oy! Oy!" he moaned. "Oy! Oy! 
 Oy!" 
 
 "Oy" doesn't mean anything in particular, 
 and yet it expressed his feelings more accurately 
 than all the vocabulary of Dante's Inferno. 
 The thought of telling his wife about it never 
 for an instant occurred to him. That idea was 
 so entirely and hopelessly out of the question 
 that unless some one had suggested it to him, it 
 would not have come to his mind had he de- 
 liberated over the matter for a year. He sud- 
 denly found himself in front of the grocer's 
 store where his wife purchased the family veg- 
 etables. Horowitz, the grocer himself, stood 
 in the doorway, smiling cheerfully.
 
 Klein's Financial System 263 
 
 "Horowitz," he said and no man ever went 
 to his death more heroically "lend me ten dol- 
 lars, will you? I'll give it back in a few days." 
 
 ' * Sure ! ' ' said Horowitz. 
 
 A few minutes after seven o'clock the usual 
 time of his home-coming Klein handed his 
 wife eighteen dollars. 
 
 "What's the matter?" she asked. "You 
 ain 't looking well. ' ' 
 
 It was Klein's last chance to make a clean 
 breast of the whole affair without entering upon 
 the path of deception. 
 
 * ' I I have a headache ! " he replied and the 
 last chance was gone. In the synagogue next 
 day, his mind could not follow the service: it 
 was too much engrossed with the greatest prob- 
 lem that had ever confronted it. How was he 
 going to repay those ten dollars? To take the 
 money out of his salary was impossible, as his 
 wife would know of it. To earn ten dollars out- 
 side the sphere of his regular work was out of 
 the question: he would not have known how to 
 begin. Klein sighed. Klein sighed a great 
 many times that day and the next and the next, 
 for the longer he pondered over his situation 
 the more cause did he find for sighing. On the 
 fourth day Horowitz, the grocer, gazed at him
 
 264 With the Best Intention 
 
 with that expression that borrowers frequently 
 see or fancy they see on the faces of those to 
 whom they owe money. 
 
 "I'll see you to-morrow," said Klein, in as 
 blithe a tone as he could command. The next 
 morning he went to Sammis, the butcher, and 
 with the air of being in a tremendous hurry 
 said, "Can you let me have ten dollars for a 
 few days?" 
 
 * * Sure ! ' ' said Sammis. You see, Klein's rep- 
 utation was good in that neighbourhood, and, 
 having never borrowed money before, he had 
 no difficulty in obtaining so small a loan. Be- 
 sides which, the relation of Gottlieb Klein to his 
 own household was well known, and, curious as 
 the fact may be, husbands who are dominated 
 by their wives have better credit than their 
 more assertive brethren. "With the ten dollars 
 that Klein borrowed from Peter he paid Paul. 
 Of course he knew full well that this transac- 
 tion, instead of solving his difficulty, only pro- 
 longed it; but, remembering the expression of 
 the grocer's face, even a postponement of the 
 fatal hour of reckoning was welcome. For 
 three days Klein worried over the matter, this 
 time with Sammis, the butcher, as the central 
 figure of his thoughts, instead of Horowitz.
 
 Klein's Financial System 265 
 
 Then, when he came home after his day's work 
 his wife told him that Sammis had called to see 
 him. 
 
 "What did he want?" asked Klein faintly. 
 He was sure that his heart had stopped beat- 
 ing. 
 
 "He didn't say. He said it wasn't impor- 
 tant." 
 
 "I I think I'll go to see him after supper," 
 said Klein. As soon as he had finished supper 
 Klein hastened to Aarons, the shoemaker, who 
 lived a few doors away. 
 
 "Aarons," said he, "can you lend me ten 
 dollars for a few days?" 
 
 "Sure!" said Aarons. Klein thanked him 
 and called upon Sammis. 
 
 ' ' I was coming to pay you to-night, anyway, ' ' 
 he said. "Why did you come to my house?" 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry, Klein," replied the 
 butcher, "but a man came with a bill that I had 
 to pay, and I was a little short. It's all right, 
 now. I 'm in no hurry for the money. ' ' 
 
 But Klein insisted upon paying him, and then 
 took up his burden of worry again, this time 
 with Aarons, the shoemaker, as the central fig- 
 ure. 
 
 Strangely enough this load of worry seemed
 
 266 With the Best Intention 
 
 to be growing lighter. The fear of discovery 
 by his wife was not so immediate now, and 
 while the thought of the ten dollars that he 
 owed harassed him day and night, it had not 
 the same depressing effect upon his spirits as 
 the dread of explaining the matter to Mrs. 
 Klein. Still, it was bad enough. 
 
 "When the time came to pay Aarons, Klein 
 borrowed ten dollars of Lazarus, the pedlar, 
 who had a route on Long Island and was home 
 only on Fridays and Saturdays. From Lubar- 
 sky, the coal-dealer, he borrowed to pay Laz- 
 arus. From Rabbi Eoloff he borrowed to pay 
 Lubarsky. And then, one fateful day, having 
 received a note from the rabbi asking him when 
 it would be convenient for him to repay the ten 
 dollars, as the rabbi had to pay his rent and 
 finding himself utterly unable to think of an- 
 other soul whom he knew well enough to ask 
 for a loan he returned to Horowitz, the grocer, 
 of whom he had borrowed first and who, re- 
 membering how promptly Klein had repaid the 
 money before, lent it without the slightest hesi- 
 tation. Klein thus completed an endless chain 
 of Peters and Pauls of each of whom he could 
 borrow, in turn, to pay the other. And for
 
 Klein's Financial System 267 
 
 seven months he borrowed and paid, borrowed 
 and paid and borrowed again. 
 
 As a system of finance this has, of course, 
 much to recommend it. Conducted upon a 
 higher plane, it might even lead a man to wealth 
 and enable him, had he financial genius, to 
 manipulate great enterprises. If you borrow 
 and pay back promptly, it is the easiest thing 
 in the world to borrow again. The drawback, 
 however, is that occasionally you Strike a Snag 
 or miss a Cog. 
 
 For seven months, as I said, Gottlieb Klein 
 borrowed and paid in the same circle. During 
 all this time the thought of ten dollars was never 
 absent from his mind. All day long, as he 
 worked, he kept thinking of ten dollars and 
 worrying lest he might forget the proper rota- 
 tion of his creditors. Every night he dreamed 
 of ten dollars. 
 
 In his dreams, curiously enough, he was hap- 
 piest, for he always found a ten-dollar bill in 
 some unexpected place, or strangers stopped 
 him in the street and gave him ten dollars. 
 But when he awoke, his problem was ever the 
 same. And it might have been the same to this 
 day for, in this system, time plays no part if
 
 268 With the Best Intention 
 
 it had not been for a most annoying and discon- 
 certing circumstance. 
 
 Some philosopher I think it was Praxiteles 
 of Milo, whoever he was said once that bad 
 luck usually runs in a streak and lasts about 
 seven months, after which it gets worse. Gott- 
 lieb Klein's system worked to perfection for 
 seven months, and then Slipped a Cog. It was 
 Aarons's turn to lend him ten dollars, and 
 Aarons had gone to his cousin's wedding and 
 would not be home for two days. And Lazarus, 
 the pedlar, who was next on the list, was cover- 
 ing his Long Island route and would not return 
 for five days. It was with considerable misgiv- 
 ing that Klein went to the office of Lubarsky, 
 the coal-dealer, for it was less than two weeks 
 ago that he had repaid him in his turn. But 
 Lubarsky had gone to Philadelphia, and no 
 one in his office knew when he would return. 
 Next on the list came Rabbi Roloff, and as it 
 seemed to Klein only yesterday that he had paid 
 the rabbi, he had not the heart to call upon him 
 again so soon. 
 
 And as Horowitz, the grocer, who immedi- 
 ately followed the rabbi in Klein's order of ro- 
 tation, was only one removed from Sammis, 
 who was now due to be repaid, Horowitz real-
 
 Klein's Financial System 269 
 
 ised that his system had Struck a Snag, and his 
 heart sank very low. He could think of no one 
 else. He feared he had come to the end of his 
 rope, and the face of his wife rose, spectre- 
 like, before his mind's eye. He felt a chill 
 creep up and down his spine. And at this pro- 
 pitious or, perhaps, unpropitious moment, 
 he came face to face with Lapidowitz, the 
 schnorrer. 
 
 " Hello, Klein!" cried the schnorrer cheerily. 
 "What makes you look so glum?" 
 
 "Lapidowitz," said Klein earnestly, "I need 
 ten dollars for a few days. Have you got ten 
 dollars?" 
 
 Lapidowitz peered at him intently, and then, 
 drawing a roll of bills from his pocket, began 
 to count them. "Yes," he said, returning the 
 money to his pocket "I got just ten dollars, 
 but I need them." 
 
 "Listen, old man," said Klein eagerly. "If 
 you only knew I I be a good fellow and lend 
 them to me. You'll get them back in four 
 days." 
 
 Lapidowitz reflected long and intently. 
 "Klein," he said finally, "I'll tell you what I'll 
 do. I don't exactly need the money until four 
 days from now, but then I'll need eleven dol-
 
 270 With the Best Intention 
 
 lars. If you promise to give me a dollar for 
 interest, I'll lend you the money. You know I 
 wouldn't ask it if I didn't need the money." 
 
 Klein gasped, stared at Lapidowitz, sput- 
 tered, and almost choked. And then, in the 
 calm tone of desperation, he said: "All right. 
 I'll give you back eleven dollars." 
 
 "In four days?" asked the schnorrer. 
 
 "In four days." 
 
 "Swear it on the Torah!" 
 
 Klein swore it on the Torah. Fifteen min- 
 utes later he had repaid Sammis. Half an 
 hour later, pretending that he was not well, he 
 went to bed and lay there trying to figure out 
 what had become of his system and what he was 
 to do now. Instead of borrowing ten dollars 
 he would now have to borrow eleven, because 
 to obtain the extra dollar from any outside 
 source was as impossible as to raise the ten dol- 
 lars. And if he took Lapidowitz into his circle 
 of creditors he saw clearly that his indebted- 
 ness would amount to one dollar each time he 
 came to the schnorrer. He knew Lapidowitz 
 well, and knew that it was no urgent need of 
 eleven dollars that had exacted that usurious 
 interest. 
 
 And Gottlieb Klein 's mind worked and strug-
 
 Klein's Financial System 271 
 
 gled over that problem as it had never exerted 
 itself before. And then, suddenly, a cry burst 
 from his lips. 
 
 ''What is it?" asked his wife, running into 
 the room. 
 
 Klein hid his face under the coverlet. "I 
 just had a pain, but it went away ! " he mumbled. 
 But there was a smile upon his face. 
 
 The following night he came home with the 
 air of a man brimming over with news of im- 
 portance. "What do you think!" he cried. 
 "We have organised a Yiddish Garment Cut- 
 ters' Club! I'm the president. All it costs is 
 a dollar a week, and if anything happens to me 
 I get a benefit. ' ' 
 
 "A benefit!" said his wife. "What kind of 
 a benefit?" 
 
 "It it the club pays the doctor's bills and 
 the medicine and and as soon as we have 
 enough money in the treasury we get paid while 
 we're sick." 
 
 Mrs. Klein had heard something of benefit so- 
 cieties before and, in a general way, approved 
 of them. What she did not approve of, how- 
 ever, was the idea of her husband taking a step 
 of such importance without consulting her. 
 She told him so. It took her five minutes to
 
 272 -With the Best Intention 
 
 tell him, and at the end of the five minutes 
 Klein knew positively and completely that she 
 did not approve. 
 
 "It was Mandelbaum 's idea," he explained 
 lamely. "I had to join right away, or else they 
 wouldn't take me in. Mandelbaum said, 'Now 
 or never,' if I wanted to join. I didn't think 
 you would object." 
 
 "I have my opinion of Mandelbaum!" said 
 his wife. "How long do you have to pay a dol- 
 lar a week? 
 
 "Oh, not long," Klein answered hastily. 
 "Only about eleven or twelve weeks. I don't 
 have to pay as long as the others because I'm 
 president ! ' ' 
 
 When lovely woman stoops to matters of busi- 
 ness, she either makes a great success of them 
 or a muddle there is rarely a middle course. 
 
 Fortunately for Klein, his wife could not ex- 
 actly weigh the merits of this benefit society, 
 and, having given her husband a piece of her 
 mind upon the subject, she agreed, reluctantly, 
 that he was to retain a dollar a week out of his 
 wages in order to pay his dues in this new or- 
 ganisation. 
 
 Have you ever heard the refrain of that popu- 
 lar song,
 
 Klein's Financial System 273 
 
 "Who took that in-jine off my neck?" 
 
 It expresses somewhat inadequately, to be 
 sure the feelings of Gottlieb Klein when he 
 saw his way out of his difficulty. At the end 
 of four days Aarons, the shoemaker, had re- 
 turned, and Klein borrowed ten dollars from 
 him. Adding to this the dollar he had retained 
 from his wages, he repaid Lapidowitz. And 
 when, on the following Friday night, he learned 
 that Lazarus had returned from his Long Is- 
 land route, he approached him with a dollar in 
 his hand. 
 
 "Lazarus, old man,'* he said. "I'd like to 
 borrow nine dollars if you can spare it. ' ' 
 
 Lazarus handed him a ten-dollar bill. "You 
 can have ten, ' ' he said. * ' I have no change. ' ' 
 
 "Take this dollar!" cried Klein eagerly. 
 "Nine is all I need." 
 
 When it came time to pay Lazarus he bor- 
 rowed eight dollars from Lubarsky. And thus, 
 you can readily see, he would have been free of 
 all his troubles and entirely out of debt in ex- 
 actly eight more weeks if, once again, the sys- 
 tem had not Slipped a Cog. That, you must al- 
 ways remember, is a habit that all human sys- 
 tems have. Not that they always Slip a Cog, 
 for then they would not be systems. They only
 
 274 [With the Best Intention 
 
 Slip the Cog often enough to prove how worth- 
 less they are. 
 
 Mandelbaum had worked overtime the day 
 before and came to the shop late on the follow- 
 ing morning. His table was next to Klein's. 
 "Say, Klein," he began, " what's this business 
 about the benefit club 1 ' ' 
 
 Klein began to perspire, and it seemed to 
 him as if all the lights in the world had sud- 
 denly gone out. "Wh-what are you talking 
 about?" he asked. 
 
 "I just met your wife on the street, and she 
 said I was a fool for getting up a benefit 
 club." 
 
 Klein felt his heart rising toward his larynx. 
 "What did you tell her!" he asked faintly. 
 
 "I told her I never started any benefit club 
 and that I didn't know what she was talking 
 about. My, but she looked mad I What 's it all 
 about?" 
 
 Klein laid his hand upon Mandelbaum 's arm. 
 "Swear on the Torah you'll never tell a soul 
 about it, and I '11 tell you everything. She '11 be 
 here at lunch-time, and I don't know what to 
 do." 
 
 Mandelbaum swore he would never reveal a 
 word of the other's confidence, and Klein told
 
 Klein's Financial System 275 
 
 his story. It did him good to tell it, too, for 
 now that he had to face his wife he felt that his 
 burden was too great to bear. Long before he 
 had finished his recital Mandelbaum 's counten- 
 ance was overspread with a huge grin. 
 
 "You needn't laugh," said Klein. "It was 
 all your fault in the beginning. You told me to 
 play dice with that man or I would never have 
 done it." 
 
 "That's so," said Mandelbaum, gravely. 
 "Let me think. Maybe there is a way out of 
 it." 
 
 For a long time the two men chalked patterns 
 on cloth and cut the cloth in silence. Then 
 Mandelbaum turned to his companion with a 
 wink and a grin. 
 
 "Klein," he whispered, "I have it!" 
 
 "What shall I do?" Klein whispered in turn. 
 
 "Don't do anything!" said Mandelbaum. 
 1 1 Leave it all to me. I got to do a lot of think- 
 ing, but when she comes you leave everything 
 to me. I promise you it will all come out right. 
 How much do you owe now?" 
 
 "Eight dollars," whispered Klein. 
 
 "H'm! I guess it's all right. Sh-h-h! 
 Here she comes!" 
 
 Klein turned, astounded, and beheld his wife
 
 276 With the Best Intention 
 
 enter the workroom. "Wh-what brings you so 
 early ?" he asked. He felt those old, familiar 
 chills coursing tremulously up and down the 
 marrow of his spine. 
 
 "Come outside," said his wife. "I want to 
 talk with you!" 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Klein," said Mandelbaum cheer- 
 ily, "you're just the person I want to see!" 
 And he accompanied Klein out into the hall- 
 way. 
 
 Mrs. Klein glared at him. "Well!" she 
 asked, in an icy voice. "What do you want?" 
 
 "Mrs. Klein," said Mandelbaum solemnly, 
 "I just had a talk with the other members of 
 the club, and we fined your husband nine dol- 
 lars because he talks too much. A secret club 
 is a secret club, and no member has a right to 
 tell even his wife about it. When you asked 
 me about the club, I told you I didn't know any- 
 thing about it. I thought maybe you just 
 learned it by accident. But your husband con- 
 fessed that he told you, and the rules say that 
 any member who tells about the club is fined 
 nine dollars. And if he don't pay right away 
 we must put up his name, and he has to pay a 
 dollar more each week." 
 
 Klein, with tears in his eyes and they were
 
 Klein's Financial System 277 
 
 genuine tears, too turned to his wife. "Oh, 
 how could you ! " he exclaimed mournfully. 
 
 His wife gazed at him in astonishment. 
 "You never said it was a secret!" she declared. 
 
 "I I never thought you'd tell any body, " he 
 retorted. "See what I get for it. No other 
 member told his wife. Only me. And I'm 
 fined eight dollars." 
 
 ' ' Nine ! ' ' corrected Mandelbaum. 
 
 Klein looked at him. "I thought it was 
 eight," he said, in surprise. 
 
 But Mandelbaum shook his head. "Nine," 
 he said. "And, besides, you got to go to the 
 secret meeting to-night and give an explana- 
 tion. If you don't" he shook his head om- 
 inously "you know the secret rules!" 
 
 Klein looked at him in bewilderment. Then 
 he turned to his wife. "I must have the nine 
 dollars!" 
 
 Mrs. Klein, with lips pressed firmly together, 
 opened her reticule, drew out a pocket-book, and 
 began to count out nine one-dollar bills. Even 
 in the new order of things, you see, there are 
 times when a woman feels that speech is help- 
 less. The fact that she dominates the household 
 is a secret that she desires to keep to herself. 
 Mrs. Klein reluctantly handed her husband the
 
 278 With the Best Intention 
 
 money, which he, in turn, handed to Mandel- 
 baum. 
 
 "Did you want to see me about anything 
 special 1 ' ' Klein then asked his wife. 
 
 "No!" she said. And without another word 
 she departed. 
 
 "What did you make it nine dollars for?" 
 asked Klein immediately. "I only owe eight." 
 
 Mandelbaum winked at him. "You and I 
 will hold the secret meeting at the coffee-house 
 to-night, and the dollar will come in handy."
 
 XIV 
 
 Bimberg's Night Off 
 
 egg of to-day," saith the Talmud, 
 "is better than the hen of to-morrow." 
 Right-o! A shipwrecked traveller clinging to 
 a raft in mid-ocean imagines he has reached the 
 zenith of his happiness when a liner appears 
 upon the scene, lowers a lifeboat, and picks him 
 up. But after his clothes are dried and he has 
 eaten a few meals he wishes he had a cabin de 
 luxe on the promenade deck and a seat at the 
 captain's table. In proof of all of which "list, 
 list, oh, list!" to this experience of Lapidowitz. 
 Lapidowitz had taken up the drama. Some 
 one had told him of the fabulous sums that play- 
 wrights make, and Lapidowitz, after witnessing 
 a performance of the "Rose of Sharon" at the 
 Yiddish Theatre had written a play. He wrote 
 it in Milken's cafe, and having explained to 
 Milken how much money he expected to get for 
 it, and having allowed him to read the manu- 
 script page by page as he wrote it, had no 
 
 279
 
 280 With the Best Intention 
 
 trouble in getting his meals on credit. It took 
 him three days to finish the play. It was a 
 tragedy with enough comedy, burlesque, and 
 melodrama thrown in to give it variety. 
 
 Milken admired it immensely. The title of it 
 was "A Son of the Talmud," but Lapidowitz 
 decided that he would not object if the manager 
 of the Yiddish Theatre changed this title to 
 something better. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Lapidowitz did not care 
 what the stage-manager did with the play. He 
 had no pride of authorship and no sensitive 
 feelings of any kind that could possibly be hurt. 
 Lapidowitz simply needed money, and unless he 
 could raise money he knew he would have to go 
 to work. He had come to the end of his re- 
 sources. All his friends refused to lend him 
 any more money, his credit was exhausted 
 everywhere except in Milken's cafe, and his silk 
 hat was becoming frowzy. The ordinary mis- 
 fortunes attendant upon laziness and poverty 
 Lapidowitz could bear with equanimity. He 
 had been accustomed to them for years, and he 
 had not yet lost faith in the guiding maxim of 
 his life: "If no one will lend you money for 
 dinner some one is sure to lend you money for 
 supper." But a frowzy silk hat grated upon
 
 Bimberg's Night Off 281 
 
 his sensibilities. Hence, "A Son of the Tal- 
 mud. ' ' 
 
 The manager of the Yiddish Theatre took the 
 manuscript and began to read it. Lapidowitz 
 sat watching his face as he read. At first the 
 manager read the lines carefully, without skip- 
 ping a word. 
 
 1 'You can change the title," said Lapidowitz. 
 "Maybe you will think of something more 
 catchy for the public than 'A Son of the Tal- 
 mud.' " 
 
 The manager did not answer, but began to 
 read every third or fourth line. 
 
 "If you want to leave out any part I haven't 
 any objection," ventured Lapidowitz, hopefully 
 watching the manager's face. 
 
 The manager now began to skip pages, glanc- 
 ing casually over every fourth or fifth. 
 
 "Maybe there are things you want me to 
 write over again," suggested Lapidowitz. 
 
 The manager yawned and handed him back 
 his manuscript. 
 
 "You couldn't use it?" asked Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Not if you paid me ten thousand dollars," 
 replied the manager. He gazed at Lapidowitz 
 studiously for a minute. "Say, my friend," he 
 said, "I haven't got time to bother with you
 
 282 With the Best Intention 
 
 very mucli. But if you're looking for work I've 
 got a job for you. I need a doorkeeper at 
 the stage entrance. The man who had the 
 job is sick. Do you want it or not? Hurry 
 up!" 
 
 Lapidowitz drew a long breath. * ' I take it ! " 
 he said. And that is how Lapidowitz became 
 an employe of the Yiddish Theatre. The first 
 night he attended to his duties faithfully. The 
 second night he found it tiresome sitting in the 
 dark corridor all alone, and thought he would 
 take a peep at the performance from the wings. 
 The stage-manager grasped him firmly by the 
 ear. 
 
 "If you leave the door again," he hissed at 
 him, "I'll kick you out of the theatre." 
 
 Lapidowitz resumed his post at the door, and 
 whiled away the time by cursing the stage-man- 
 ager. Here, as the old authors used to say, let 
 us leave our hero for a moment while we con- 
 duct our readers to another scene. 
 
 It was in a restaurant on Grand Street. 
 Bimberg, the drygoods man, sat at a table with 
 half a dozen of his friends drinking Somorodnyi 
 and explaining, over and over again, how it 
 happened that he had a night off. Bimberg 's 
 friends always spoke to him in Yiddish, but
 
 Bimberg's Night Off 283 
 
 Bimberg, for some inscrutable reason, spoke 
 nothing but what he called English. 
 
 "Der vife," he said, "goes to Brooklyn be- 
 cause her mamma iss sick unt says I should stay 
 home. Unt den she telephones dot she got to 
 stay all night mit mamma, unt dot I should go 
 to bed. So I gif Rachel, der cook, fifty cents so 
 dot she don't say not 'ing. Unt here I am! 
 Ha! Ha! Ha!" 
 
 Bimberg was well known upon the East Side, 
 and as no one had ever before seen him in a res- 
 taurant without his wife, and as a great many 
 of his acquaintances happened to pass his table 
 that night, he had an opportunity of repeating 
 this explanation at least twenty tunes. 
 
 Somorodnyi is a mild Hungarian wine with a 
 flavour something like that of sherry, but Bim- 
 berg was not accustomed to drinking anything 
 stronger than coffee, and it required only two 
 small glasses to fill him with pleasurable excite- 
 ment. Then some one suggested the Yiddish 
 Theatre, and Bimberg enthusiastically seconded 
 the suggestion. 
 
 Here, let us again digress for half a second. 
 Why is it that when a group of people are feel- 
 ing in fine spirits after dinner the suggestion 
 of the theatre always appeals to them! Those
 
 284 With the Best Intention 
 
 who are depressed or in a thoughtful or sombre 
 mood or worried or wrapped up in the contem- 
 plation of their own affairs, and who, one would 
 be tempted to think, would be most benefited 
 by the relaxation of witnessing an interesting 
 play, are, as a rule, least prone to flee from their 
 troubles and seek solace in the theatre. While, 
 upon the other hand, I have yet to find a group 
 of people in that delightful frame of mind in 
 which they feel uplifted and amused and per- 
 fectly happy in the interchange of thought and 
 badinage by whom the suggestion of going to 
 a theatre is not greeted with spontaneous en- 
 thusiasm 1 
 
 Be this as it may, Bimberg and his friends 
 went to the theatre. Rosa Lazarus was play- 
 ing the leading part in the "Bose of Sharon," 
 and Bimberg could not take his eyes off her. 
 He was not accustomed to the theatre, and the 
 lofty lines that she spoke seemed to him a nat- 
 ural part of her character, harmonising as they 
 did with the beauty of her face and figure. 
 
 "How I would like to sit down and talk with 
 a woman like that ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "Why not?" responded one of his friends. 
 "It is the custom. All you have to do if you 
 like an actress is to go to the stage door and
 
 Bimberg's Night Off 285 
 
 send her a note saying you would like to make 
 her acquaintance. I have often read about it 
 in the newspapers. ' ' 
 
 The suggestion appealed to Bimberg. He 
 wrote upon a slip of paper : 
 
 ' ' Charming Lady, I cannot tell you how much 
 your noble character appeals to me. I would 
 like to become acquainted with you. My name 
 is Bimberg, the drygoods man. Please send me 
 an answer." 
 
 At the end of the act he went around to the 
 stage door and handed the note to the door- 
 keeper. It was somewhat dark, and in. the tall 
 figure that received his note he failed to rec- 
 ognise Lapidowitz, the well-known schnorrer, 
 although Lapidowitz instantly recognised 
 him. 
 
 " Hello, Mr. Bimberg!" exclaimed Lapido- 
 witz. "Just wait a minute, and I'll give the 
 note to Miss Lazarus." 
 
 At that instant something within Bimberg 
 seemed to stir and awaken, and he experienced 
 the sinking sensation of a man who realises that 
 he has committed a blunder. He wanted to re- 
 call the note, but the doorkeeper was already 
 out of sight. As a matter of fact, Lapidowitz 
 had turned around an angle of the corridor and
 
 286 With the Best Intention 
 
 was holding the note under a gas jet. As he 
 read it he chuckled. 
 
 ' ' If Mrs. Bimberg knew ! " he exclaimed. He 
 pocketed the note and returned to the actress's 
 admirer. 
 
 "Miss Lazarus is married, Mr. Bimberg," he 
 said. ''Her name off the stage is Mrs. Lazin- 
 sky. Lazarus is only her stage name. Her hus- 
 band is in the company, and she says she 
 hasn't time to meet anybody." 
 
 Bimberg did not even rejoin his friends. He 
 hurried home, got into bed, and crawled as far 
 under the covers as he could. Lapidowitz, 
 meanwhile, read the note over and over again, 
 laughing at first and then plunged in deep 
 thought. With a final sigh of satisfaction he 
 put the note in his pocket and lit a cigarette. 
 
 "Maybe yes," he said, "and maybe no. But 
 I guess yes." 
 
 The following morning Bimberg sat in his 
 inner office busily engaged in dictating letters. 
 He had a slight headache and felt cross. And 
 he was very busy. A boy announced that Mr. 
 Lapidowitz wished to see him. 
 
 " Lapidowitz f Lapidowitz?" muttered Bim- 
 berg. ; ' Der schnorrer ? Tell him I 'm too busy. 
 I don't see anybody."
 
 Bimberg's Night Off 287 
 
 He continued his dictation. The events of 
 the preceding night had not recurred to his 
 mind. But the boy returned. 
 
 "He says he's the doorkeeper by the Yiddish 
 The-aytre. He says maybe you remember Miss 
 Lazarus ! ' ' 
 
 The whole situation revealed itself to Bim- 
 berg as vividly and as suddenly as if a flash of 
 lightning had illuminated it. He felt himself 
 perspiring from head to foot. He dismissed 
 his stenographer, and asked Lapidowitz to 
 enter.' There was something almost sublime in 
 the audacity of Lapidowitz. He neither 
 hemmed nor hawed; neither hesitated nor di- 
 gressed. He entered smiling cheerfully. 
 
 "Mr. Bimberg," he said in Yiddish, "you're 
 my friend, and I'm yours. I don't like the job 
 in the theatre, and I guess you can give me a 
 job in your big drygoods store." 
 
 "A chob?" repeated Bimberg, blinking. "I 
 have no chobs." 
 
 "Veil," said Lapidowitz, lapsing into Eng- 
 glish, "ven a man ain't got a chob he makes 
 vun. I did a good favour by you last night. 
 Now you do vun by me like a good friend. 
 Ain't it?" 
 
 Bimberg stared at him. Lapidowitz was still
 
 288 With the Best Intention 
 
 smiling, but Bimberg knew enough of men to un- 
 derstand all that was passing in the schnorrer's 
 mind. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. 
 
 "Der only chob vot I got," he said, "is for a 
 man to come sometimes unt take care uf der cus- 
 tomers' umbrellas by der door ven it rains." 
 
 "It don't rain often enough," said Lapido- 
 witz decisively. "I got to haf a chob vot iss 
 steady." 
 
 Bimberg scratched his head. 
 
 "Oh, don't be afraid about last night," said 
 Lapidowitz. "I vouldn't tell Mrs. Bimberg or 
 der rabbi or der shamash uf der synagogue or 
 any uf der members uf der lodge about Miss 
 Lazarus. I'm a man vot can keep a secret. 
 But I bet you can make a good chob for me if 
 you t'ink vunce!" Bimberg thought. He 
 never had thought so much or so quickly before 
 in all his life. Then he rang a bell. "Mr. 
 Cohen," he said to a sallow-faced clerk who ap- 
 peared, "gif dis man a chob in der office. He 
 can make out der bills." 
 
 " Ve got too many in der office already," said 
 the clerk. "Efry time I ask for a raise in my 
 sellery you say I got too many people in der 
 office. ' '
 
 Bimberg 's Night Off 289 
 
 Bimberg drew himself to his full height. "I 
 am der boss," he said. "Gif him der chob!" 
 
 "Sure Mr. Bimberg is der boss!" added La- 
 pidowitz with a frown. "You should alvays do 
 vot your boss says." 
 
 For half an hour Bimberg sat heaping silent 
 imprecations upon the head of Lapidowitz. 
 And then, being really very busy that day, he 
 went on with his work and soon forgot all about 
 the matter. 
 
 Lapidowitz meanwhile was learning how to 
 make out the bills. He learned quickly, and 
 did his work neatly and well. Mr. Cohen, the 
 chief clerk, said very little to him, but watched 
 him narrowly. For three days Lapidowitz con- 
 tinued at this work, and for three days he was 
 perfectly contented. On the fourth day he ap- 
 proached Bimberg. 
 
 "Mr. Bimberg," he said, "I know all about 
 der bills now. But vot I vould like to do iss to 
 go out in der store unt be a floor-valker. I 
 know vare iss all der departments, unt I can do 
 it good." 
 
 Bimberg suddenly felt panic-stricken. "But 
 I got two floor-valkers already!" he said. 
 
 "Den you vill haf free," replied Lapidowitz.
 
 290 .With the Best Intention 
 
 "Tint so soon I am here a couple uf veeks you 
 can let vun go. ' ' 
 
 " V'y don't you take der whole store?" asked 
 Bimberg. 
 
 "Mr. Bimberg," said Lapidowitz reproach- 
 fully, * ' only yesterday I seen Mrs. Bimberg on 
 der street. Did I said anyt'ing to her about 
 der the-atre ? Not a vord ! Unt der rabbi said 
 to me he iss so glad you haf me in your store. 
 Did I said anyt'ing to him about Miss Laz- 
 arus? Not a vord! Ven I haf did a favour 
 by you v'y can't you do vun by me?" 
 
 Lapidowitz became a floor-walker. Bimberg 
 put on his hat and coat and went to the nearest 
 coffee-house to ponder over the matter. The 
 longer he pondered the less headway he made. 
 It was one of those situations that are simply 
 unthinkable. The moment his mind reverted 
 to the idea of his wife learning that he had writ- 
 ten a note to an actress he could only groan. 
 Whenever he tried to approach the situation 
 from another direction his mind came back to 
 his wife and the note to Miss Lazarus. And 
 after grappling with the whole matter for half 
 an hour and thinking around the same circle 
 over and over again he returned to the store. 
 
 Lapidowitz made an ideal floor-walker. His
 
 Biniberg's Night Off 291 
 
 tall, imposing figure looked quite majestic when 
 he directed an attractive-looking woman to the 
 millinery department. He only regretted that 
 he could not wear his silk hat in the store, for 
 he had bought a new one, and a shining silk hat 
 was a crown of glory in Lapidowitz's eyes. Mr. 
 Cohen, the sallow-faced clerk, never spoke to 
 him, but often watched him. 
 
 It was when Mrs. Bimberg herself came to the 
 store, which she did frequently and unexpect- 
 edly, that Lapidowitz was at his best as a floor- 
 walker. The gallantry with which he escorted 
 her from counter to counter and the lordly man- 
 ner with which he ordered the salesmen and 
 saleswomen to wait upon her promptly made 
 quite an impression upon her. 
 
 ' 'You have a fine, new floor- walker," she said 
 to her husband. 
 
 Bimberg could not trust himself to speak. 
 He felt like a man sleeping on the brink of a 
 volcano. But even this feeling might ultimately 
 have passed away, and Lapidowitz, had he been 
 content with his position, might have continued 
 as floor-walker indefinitely. But the seed of 
 ambition had been implanted in the schnorrer's 
 breast. He had had a taste of authority. Am- 
 bition is a dreadful ailment.
 
 292 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Mr. Bimberg," he said, one day after he 
 had been floor-walker for nearly a week, 
 "vouldn't it be a good idea if I vos der cheneral 
 manager uf der store? Den, sometimes, you 
 could take a vacation, unt I could be der boss !" 
 
 Bimberg turned pale and tried to swallow a 
 lump in his throat. "I don't vant a vacation," 
 he said. 
 
 "You should take vun," insisted the schnor- 
 rer. "You look pale." 
 
 "Mr. Lapidowitz," said the proprietor 
 weakly, "gif me a couple uf days to t'ink about 
 it. I vill see if I can do it. ' ' 
 
 Through the glass door Mr. Cohen, the sal- 
 low-faced clerk, could see Bimberg with his 
 elbow on his desk and his head resting upon his 
 hand in an attitude of utter dejection. He en- 
 tered and closed the door behind him. 
 
 "Mr. Bimberg," he said, "you haf troubles. 
 Unt it's all about dot loafer Lapidowitz. Ten 
 years I haf been vit' you, unt you know you 
 can trust me. Tell me vot iss it. Maybe I can 
 help you. I got a friend vot iss a Irisher. 
 Some day I ask him to come here und gif dot 
 Lapidowitz a punch on der nose." 
 
 Bimberg gazed at his clerk. He felt so mis- 
 erable that he longed to confide in some one.
 
 Bimberg 's Night Off 293 
 
 He made the clerk swear on the Talmud and 
 the Torah and on his father's grave and his 
 grandmother's bones that he would never be- 
 tray him. Then he told the story of that fate- 
 ful night. 
 
 Mr. Cohen pressed his lips tightly together 
 and nodded. "I go around to der coffee- 
 house," he said, "unt sit down unt t'ink about 
 it. Maybe I come back vit' a good idea." 
 
 Bimberg nodded. "Don't stay avay too, 
 long," he said. "You haf plenty uf vork 
 to do." 
 
 The clerk was gone nearly an hour, but when 
 he returned he was grinning from ear to ear. 
 "Ihaf got it!" he said. 
 
 Bimberg listened eagerly while the clerk 
 whispered his scheme into his ear. Then he 
 threw his arm around Mr. Cohen's neck. "In 
 two veeks you come to me," he said, with a 
 happy smile, "unt ve talk about your sel- 
 lery." 
 
 That night Bimberg took his wife to dinner 
 at a restaurant. "Ve go to der the-ayter 
 after," he said. "Mr. Cohen got a fine idea. 
 He says der whole city iss crazy about dot Miss 
 Lazarus vot plays in der 'Rose uf Sharon,' unt 
 if I can get her to put on vun uf our ten-dollar
 
 294 .With the Best Intention 
 
 suits I can put it der newspaper unt efrybody 
 buys vun!" 
 
 Mrs. Bimberg nodded approvingly. "It's a 
 fine business idea," she said. 
 
 "Der trouble iss," continued her husband, 
 "Mr. Cohen says she don't nefer see nobody 
 except ven dey write her foolish letters. So I 
 got up a letter vot I vill gif her to-night, unt 
 den you come vit' me unt ve all talk business." 
 He handed her a note that he had written in 
 Yiddish. 
 
 "Charming lady," it ran, "you have such a 
 noble character. I would like to get acquainted 
 with you. I am Bimberg the drygoods man. 
 Please meet me after the theatre and have a 
 talk." 
 
 His wife frowned. 
 
 "You should write you are married unt got 
 a vife," she suggested. 
 
 But Bimberg shook his head. "Mr. Cohen 
 says dot vill spoil efryt'ing. Anyvay so soon 
 she comes out I introduce you, unt she finds out 
 qvick dot I am married." 
 
 "I guess you haf right," assented Mrs. 
 Bimberg. Women, you see, instinctively know 
 something of each other's psychology. An 
 hour later, when the curtain had fallen on the
 
 Bimberg 's Night Off 295 
 
 first act, Bimbcrg left his wife and went out 
 of the theatre. The first thing he did was to 
 tear his note into tiny bits and scatter them ell 
 over the street. Then he went to a coffee- 
 house, drank a cup of black coffee, smoked a 
 huge cigar, and smiled contentedly to himself. 
 When he rejoined his wife he shook his head 
 sadly. 
 
 "Der doorkeeper iss fresh," he said. "I 
 couldn't see her, unt she iss married unt nefer 
 meets nobody." 
 
 Somehow or other Mrs. Bimberg did not ap- 
 pear to be greatly disappointed. Women, of 
 course, have not the same keen business sense 
 that men have. But on the way home Bimberg 
 remarked to her, jokingly: 
 
 "Vot vould all der people say if dey know I 
 sent a foolish letter by a actress?" 
 
 "So long I am vit' you unt know about it," 
 said Mrs. Bimberg, "it iss nobody's bizness!" 
 
 The next morning Bimberg called Lapido- 
 witz into his office. "I haf made up my mind," 
 he said. "Vait two weeks unt den I haf some- 
 t'ing good for you." Then he sent for Mr. 
 Cohen. "Ve must vait two veeks," he said. 
 "In two veeks nobody knows if it iss two veeks 
 or free veeks." Mr. Cohen saw the shrewd-
 
 296 With the Best Intention 
 
 ness of this and looked at his employer admir- 
 ingly. It had never occurred to him before 
 that Bimberg was clever. It rarely occurs to 
 any employe that his employer is wiser than he. 
 
 Several times during those two weeks Lapi- 
 dowitz became impatient. 
 
 "V'y should I vait so long?" he asked. "I 
 didn't vait two veeks to make up my mind not 
 to tell nobody about der the-ayter unt Miss 
 Lazarus. Eight avay I say to myself, 'Lapi- 
 dowitz, Mr. Bimberg iss your friend, unt you 
 must stick by him.' V'y don't you stick by me 
 now unt make me der manager right avay? 
 Dot floor-walking bizness gifs me a pain in my 
 feet." 
 
 "Ven der two weeks iss up unt not before," 
 said Bimberg firmly. He took pains, during 
 those two weeks, to tell the rabbi and most of 
 his friends in the synagogue and in his lodge of 
 how he and his wife had tried to meet Miss 
 Lazarus of 'The Eose of Sharon* Company. 
 The day before the two weeks were up he said 
 to Mr. Cohen: 
 
 ' ' Tell your Irisher friend to come here in der 
 morning. ' ' 
 
 The following morning Lapidowitz presented
 
 Biniberg's Night Off 297 
 
 himself in Bimberg's inner office. "I haf come 
 for der chob uf manager," he said. 
 
 "I haf made up my mind," said Bimberg, 
 grinning, "to gif yer der bounce. Get ouid uf 
 der store!" 
 
 Lapidowitz turned red with rage. "Der 
 bounce f " he cried. ' l Ha ! Ha ! It iss a choke ! 
 In my pocket I got der note vot you sent by 
 Miss Lazarus!" 
 
 Bimberg rang a bell, and the sallow face of 
 Mr. Cohen appeared in the doorway. "Tell 
 der Irisher der time hass come !" said Bimberg. 
 
 Exactly how it happened Lapidowitz never 
 clearly understood. He remembered that a 
 red-haired, stocky chap who seemed made of 
 iron had something to do with it. "When he 
 gathered himself up from the sidewalk in front 
 of the store he saw his silk hat, crushed and 
 covered with mud, lying in the middle of the 
 street. He picked it up and gazed at it in be- 
 wilderment. How could so beautiful a crea- 
 tion as that silk hat had been, only a few 
 moments ago, become such a hopeless wreck so 
 quickly? At that moment he espied Mrs. Bim- 
 berg on her way to the store. 
 
 ' * Vot iss it ? " she cried. * ' Did you get hit ? "
 
 298 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Vot it iss?" cried Lapidowitz. "It iss dot 
 your husband sends a letter by an actress ! ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Bimberg gazed at him coldly. "Iss 
 dot your bizness?" she asked. "Ven Mr. Bim- 
 berg sends a letter to Miss Lazarus vot I don't 
 know about den I'd like to know it." She en- 
 tered the store, and Lapidowitz gazed after her 
 blankly. Then he went home. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 "How much iss your sellery, Mr. Cohen?" 
 asked Bimberg. 
 
 "Twelluf dollars a veek," replied the sallow- 
 faced clerk. 
 
 "Veil, I guess I make it t'irteen," said Bim- 
 berg, smiling amiably. 
 
 But Mr. Cohen did not smile. "Fifteen!" 
 he said. 
 
 Bimberg looked at him. "Fifteen! Ain't 
 t'irteen enough?" he demanded. 
 
 Mr. Cohen shook his head. "Mr. Bimberg," 
 he said, "you know in your heart dot I never 
 vill tell Mrs. Bimberg or der shamash uf der 
 synagogue or der people in der lodge about der 
 two letters. I haf been your friend a long 
 time. I am a man vot you can trust. You bet- 
 ter make it fifteen."
 
 Bimberg's Night Off 299 
 
 Bimberg sank back in his chair and heaved a 
 long sigh. "I suppose you haf right," he said. 
 "Make it fifteen!"
 
 XV 
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 
 
 * c T~lIRST he peddled shoe-strings. When he 
 JL got saved up enough money to buy a 
 push-cart he bought a push-cart. His business 
 goes good, and he buys another push-cart. 
 Pretty soon he has saved enough money to 
 start a little store. His business goes good, 
 and he buys a bigger store. Then it gets only 
 a question of time. Bigger and bigger gets the 
 store, and bigger and bigger gets his bank- 
 account. Pretty soon he branches out into 
 wholesale, and now look at him! A house up- 
 town, a real-estater to collect rents for him 
 down-town, a automobile, piano lessons for his 
 daughter, and for supper every night he wears 
 a swallow-tailer ! ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz knew every word of it by heart. 
 Since the night that Lubarsky, smoking a fif- 
 teen-cent-straight cigar and wearing a huge 
 diamond in his shirt-front, had condescended 
 to analyse to the impecunious crowd gathered 
 
 300
 
 Lapidowitz 's Partner 301 
 
 in Milken's Cafe the fabulous rise of Harris, 
 the hosiery king, his words had burned in Lapi- 
 dowitz's memory. 
 
 A house up-town, an automobile, piano les- 
 sons for his daughter in case he should ever 
 have a daughter these things seemed to Lapi- 
 dowitz to be his birthright. To wear a swal- 
 low-tailer to dinner every night seemed to 
 Lapidowitz to be so peculiarly a characteristic 
 befitting himself that he almost resented Har- 
 ris's habit as a base imitation. And to think 
 how simple it all was! Peddling shoe-strings 
 was, of course, entirely out of the question. It 
 was altogether too cold to wander from house 
 to house with his wares, and Lapidowitz hated 
 walking, anyway. But if he only had enough 
 money to buy a push-cart and some goods to 
 sell, the road to wealth and idleness would 
 stretch before him. A push-cart and its outfit 
 would cost about thirty dollars. Lapidowitz 
 had about thirty cents. 
 
 For many days Lapidowitz could think of 
 nothing else but the amazing rise of the hosiery 
 king. The particular kind of goods that he 
 would sell if he had a push-cart formed no part 
 of his dream. Lapidowitz would as lief have 
 started selling cabbages as goldfish. The
 
 302 With the Best Intention 
 
 money necessary to embark upon the venture 
 was all that worried him. 
 
 It happened, one day, that Lapidowitz found 
 himself in Hester Street at the busiest hour of 
 the mart. On both sides of the street, to right 
 and to left, as far as the eye could see, stretched 
 the long line of push-carts, nearly every one of 
 them surrounded by an eager throng of cus- 
 tomers. The air resounded with the chatter- 
 ing and jabbering of thrifty purchasers and 
 zealous venders vying with one another in the 
 oldest game in the world. As Lapidowitz 
 watched the pedlars his heart grew heavy with 
 envy. The story of Harris was vivid in his 
 mind, and he saw in each pedlar the prospec- 
 tive owner of a house up-town and an automo- 
 bile and a real-estater collecting rents from 
 tenement-houses down-town. The thought that 
 each of these men would some day be able to 
 provide private piano lessons for his daughter 
 was the hardest of all to bear. 
 
 Suddenly a ripple ran down the whole line 
 of stands; there was a sudden commotion and 
 each pedlar, seizing the handles of his push- 
 cart, moved his outfit a few feet from where it 
 had been standing. A policeman had come 
 into sight, and it was in anticipation of his
 
 Lapidowitz 's Partner 303 
 
 warning to "move on" that all this bustle had 
 arisen. It was the policeman's duty to permit 
 no cart to remain in the same place for more 
 than ten minutes, but inasmuch as some learned 
 judge had handed down a decision that a ped- 
 lar's cart had only to move a foot or two to carry 
 out the provision of this law and as policemen 
 were habitually good-natured about it, the com- 
 motion quickly subsided and the traffic of the 
 mart went on. 
 
 " Hello, Lapidowitz," said the policeman, 
 prodding the schnorrer gently with his stick, 
 "what's worryin' ye?" 
 
 "I got troubles, Mister Garrity," said Lapi- 
 dowitz sadly. 
 
 "G'long with ye!" said the policeman. "If 
 I had them whiskers of yours I'd be walkin' 
 down Fifth Avenoo lettin' the ladies admire 
 them, instid o' hangin' around here lookin' like 
 a mourner at a funeral." 
 
 Lapidowitz looked at the policeman. He had 
 known him for a long time and, like every one 
 else in the Ghetto, liked him exceedingly. A 
 sudden idea had entered his mind an idea that 
 held out unexpected hope and he laid his hand 
 on the policeman's arm. 
 
 "Mister Garrity," he said, "how vould you
 
 304 With the Best Intention 
 
 like to haf a fine house up-town unt a real- 
 estater to collect rents from der tenement- 
 houses down-town unt a otymobile unt private 
 piano lessons for your daughter unt put on a 
 svaller-tailer for supper every night 1 ' ' 
 
 Officer Garrity twirled his moustache with 
 his left hand and his stick with his right. "I 
 haven't got any daughter," he says, "but it 
 listens good. What's the game?" 
 
 Lapidowitz recounted to him the story of the 
 wonderful Harris, the hosiery king, and then 
 proposed that he, Officer Garrity, should ad- 
 vance the thirty dollars necessary for the 
 launching of a push-cart enterprise and that 
 thereafter the two of them, hand in hand, in 
 equal partnership, should follow in the hosiery 
 king's footsteps. Like most men who are 
 richer in schemes than in capital, Lapidowitz 
 became infected with the enthusiasm of his own 
 recital and grew more and more confident as he 
 unfolded his scheme. 
 
 "What line o' goods are ye thinkin' o' han- 
 dling?" asked the policeman. 
 
 Lapidowitz glanced at the nearest push-cart. 
 "Muslins," he answered promptly. "I know 
 all about der muslin business." 
 
 The scheme appealed to the policeman, and
 
 Lapidowitz 's Partner 305 
 
 for several minutes he stood plunged in deep 
 thought and nodding approvingly at his own 
 reflections, the while that Lapidowitz anxiously 
 watched him. "I'll do it," he finally said. 
 "Thirty dollars ain't a lot o' money to risk, and 
 maybe ye 're right about us both makin' a pile 
 out of it. But I ain't takin' no chances, Lapi- 
 dowitz. I'll send McCarthy, me brother-in- 
 law, around to see ye, and he'll fix it up." 
 Garrity winked and smiled as he said this, and 
 Lapidowitz wondered what there was to wink 
 or smile about. 
 
 That same night a red-faced chap with a 
 square jaw and very impassive blue eyes called 
 upon Lapidowitz and introduced himself as 
 McCarthy. The schnorrer greeted him effu- 
 sively and hoped that Officer Garrity was well. 
 McCarthy gazed at Lapidowitz long and ear- 
 nestly and then, without vouchsafing a reply to 
 his friendly greeting, said: 
 
 "Where's the stand you're going to buy?" 
 
 "Oh, dot's all right," said Lapidowitz. "So 
 soon as I get der money I go out unt buy vun." 
 
 "When you get the money," explained Mc- 
 Carthy, "you can do anything you please. But 
 you don't get any money from me. If you've 
 got a stand in mind and a supply of goods that
 
 306 With the Best Intention 
 
 I can buy for thirty dollars lead me to it, and 
 I'll see what's what." 
 
 Lapidowitz, somewhat crestfallen at this ap- 
 parent lack of confidence in him, sailed forth 
 with McCarthy, and in the course of a few 
 hours succeeded in finding a suitable push-cart 
 for sale with a full outfit of variegated muslins. 
 McCarthy paid for it, and had the receipt made 
 out in his own name. Then he arranged with 
 a stableman to give nightly lodging to the cart 
 and its stock. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said to Lapidowitz, when 
 that was done. "I don't expect to see you 
 again. Take the cart somewhere and begin 
 selling them things. Garrity will tell you what 
 youVe got to do." 
 
 Inasmuch as Lapidowitz had the utmost con- 
 fidence in himself and had carefully planned 
 what he intended to do the suggestion of con- 
 sulting his partner seemed somewhat superflu- 
 ous. He wheeled his cart to Hester Street and 
 took up his position near a corner at the ex- 
 treme end of the line of push-carts on that 
 block. Then he lit a cigarette, carefully 
 brushed his silk hat on his sleeve, and waited 
 for the money to roll in. 
 
 It was early in the week and a dull day in
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 307 
 
 Hester Street. A man with one eye, who pre- 
 sided over a load of fruit at the adjoining stand, 
 grunted when he beheld his new neighbour. 
 
 "Haf you become a business man?" he asked, 
 with an undisguised sneer. 
 
 "Yes, Greenspan," replied Lapidowitz cheer- 
 fully. "I'm glad you're going to be next 
 by me ! ' ' 
 
 "For v'y are you glad?" 
 
 "Oh, I may want to leave der stand for a 
 while, unt you can keep a eye on it. ' ' 
 
 Greenspan kept his eye on Lapidowitz un- 
 blinkingly for a long moment. Then, "I'll be 
 glad to," said he, "ven you pay me der two 
 dollars vot you owe me a year already." 
 
 "I gif you my word, Greenspan," said Lapi- 
 dowitz, cursing himself for having taken up his 
 position next to one of his creditors, "dot is 
 vot I haf come by you for. So soon I make a 
 little profit you get der money. ' ' 
 
 Greenspan, somewhat mollified by the pros- 
 pect of recovering his money, began to tell how 
 dull business was. But, even as he spoke, a 
 woman paused before Lapidowitz's stand, 
 picked up a roll of gaily coloured muslin, gazed 
 at it, felt its texture, sniffed at it did every- 
 thing, in fact, but taste it or listen to it and
 
 308 With the Best Intention 
 
 then purchased six yards of it. Lapidowitz 
 held the thirty cents that she gave him tightly 
 in his hand and turned to Greenspan. 
 
 1 'Just keep a eye on der stand, neighbour," 
 he said. "I go round der corner to get a cup 
 of coffee." 
 
 Over a cup of coffee, a glass of Kirschwasser, 
 and a cigar Lapidowitz began to dream dreams. 
 It was the first time in his life that he had ever 
 experienced the wonderful sensation of taking 
 in money in legitimate trade, and no merchant 
 prince ever felt prouder after selling a cargo 
 of goods from the Indies than did Lapidowitz 
 over his first transaction on Policeman Garri- 
 ty's capital. The progressive steps of the ho- 
 siery king's rise to wealth seemed perfectly 
 clear to him now. He began to wonder where 
 he would open his store after the push-cart 
 business became too big for him to handle alone. 
 He soon dropped this line of speculation, how- 
 ever, for the more agreeable one of his mar- 
 riage. For it would be necessary to get mar- 
 ried in order to have a daughter who could take 
 private piano lessons. 
 
 Meanwhile Officer Garrity, patrolling his 
 Hester Street beat, was looking for the tall fig- 
 ure of his partner presiding over one of the
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 309 
 
 push-carts, and saw him not. Although there 
 was but little traffic in the mart, every pedlar 
 was at his stand grimly determined to let no 
 possible customer slip by. Only one stand 
 seemed to lack an owner. 
 
 "Who owns this stand, Greenspan!" the po- 
 liceman asked of the one-eyed pedlar. 
 
 Greenspan grinned. "Dot schnorrer Lapi- 
 dowitz has gone in business," he said. "He 
 hass a customer, unt now he iss spending der 
 money in der coffee-house." 
 
 The policeman began to twirl his club with 
 considerable rapidity, but gave no other indi- 
 cation of the nature of his feelings. "I'll look 
 for him," he said, "but before I go I've got a 
 word for your ear, Greenspan. ' ' 
 
 He whispered in the pedlar's ear something 
 that astonished Greenspan considerably and 
 made him gaze at the policeman with a new in- 
 terest. 
 
 "But if you ever open your mouth about it," 
 the policeman added, "life in New York won't 
 be worth living." 
 
 Greenspan's assurance of profound secrecy 
 would have convinced a greater sceptic than 
 Garrity. The policeman went to the coffee- 
 house around the corner and, peering into the
 
 310 With the Best Intention 
 
 window, espied Lapidowitz sitting inside dis- 
 cussing the prospects of business with the pro- 
 prietor. A tap upon the pane attracted the 
 schnorrer's attention, and he came, somewhat 
 sheepishly, to the door. The policeman's club 
 was swinging rapidly and somewhat aimlessly. 
 Just as Lapidowitz emerged from the doorway 
 it struck out so smartly upon the knee that he 
 emitted a yell. 
 
 "Oh, did I hurt ye!" asked the policeman in 
 a voice of solicitude, and, in a whisper, added, 
 "Ye black- whiskered gonif! Is that what I'm 
 putting up me money for? Get back to the 
 stand, or I '11 run ye in ! ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz hastened back to his push-cart 
 and, for a long while, rubbed his knee and 
 cursed the policeman. Then, growing weary of 
 standing, he seated himself upon the curbstone, 
 lit a cigarette, and began to speculate as to 
 whether he would take up muslins or not when 
 he went into the wholesale business. He had 
 ample time to speculate upon that problem, for 
 not another customer came to his stand that 
 day. 
 
 He had bragged so much to his friend Milken 
 about his certainty of becoming rich that when
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 311 
 
 he went to Milken's cafe that night for his sup- 
 per he was compelled to pay cash. The con- 
 sequence of this was that all the next morning 1 
 Lapidowitz was filled with craving for an extra 
 cup of coffee. He had had a hearty breakfast, 
 but coffee was a luxury to him one of those 
 luxuries that a man can conveniently put off for 
 a few hours if he has money in his pocket, but 
 which becomes a violent and overwhelming de- 
 sire if he is penniless. Lapidowitz never re- 
 membered a time when he wanted a cup of 
 coffee more than he did at that moment. Mil- 
 ken's cafe was too far away, and in the little 
 coffee-house around the corner he had not yet 
 established a basis of credit. So he tried 
 Greenspan. 
 
 "It will make two dollars and ten cents that 
 I owe you," he said. "I left all my money in 
 my room." 
 
 But Greenspan only shook his head. 
 
 "You had thirty cents yesterday, and you 
 didn't give me a cent on account. So to-day I 
 don't give you a cent." 
 
 Lapidowitz turned his back upon the one-eyed 
 pedlar and silently invoked every imprecation 
 known to the Torah, the Talmud, and the Kab-
 
 312 With the Best Intention 
 
 bala upon his head. And just then the woman 
 who had purchased the muslin the day before 
 returned and bought two yards more. 
 
 Lapidowitz's spirits promptly rose. 
 
 "Be a good friend," he said to Greenspan, in 
 a wheedling tone. "Keep your eye on my 
 stand, and if Garrity comes along tell him I 
 went to thedrug-store to get something for my 
 headache. I have a terrible headache." 
 
 Patrolman Garrity was chatting amiably with 
 Mrs. Kaminsky, who, since the day when the 
 policeman brought home her little Max after he 
 had lost his way, had been his stanch friend. 
 
 "And sure, Mrs. Kaminsky," he was saying, 
 "ye look so fine in your Sunday clothes you 
 must be going to meet your beau. I'll have to 
 tell Mr. Kaminsky about it. ' ' 
 
 "Such foolishness!" said the portly matron. 
 "I only go down by Hester Street to buy some 
 muslin for a new dress." 
 
 "Muslin?" said Garrity, immediately inter- 
 ested. "I've got a friend keeps a stand there 
 who's got the finest muslin in New York. 
 Come along, and I'll show ye. I'm going that 
 way myself." 
 
 "If he iss a friend vit' you I buy of him," 
 said Mrs. Kaminsky.
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 313 
 
 As they approached the street-corner where 
 Lapidowitz's push-cart stood, Policeman Gar- 
 rity felt a sudden misgiving. The lank figure 
 of the schnorrer was nowhere to be seen. Still, 
 he might be sitting on the curb behind the cart. 
 When they reached the place Garrity even 
 looked under the cart. 
 
 " Where's Lapidowitz ? " he asked of Green- 
 span. 
 
 "He got ten cents out of a customer, unt he 
 said he was going by der drug-store. ' ' A one- 
 eyed man cannot wink very well, but there was 
 an expression upon Greenspan's countenance 
 that gave the policeman an inkling of the truth. 
 He looked in every direction to see if, perchance, 
 his roundsman or some superior officer might 
 be in sight. The coast was clear. Garrity 
 picked up a piece of muslin. 
 
 "There, Mrs. Kaminsky, ain't that fine? Or 
 maybe ye like the green stuff better. And that 
 yellow piece with the blue dots ain't so bad. 
 You pick out what you like, and as soon as I 
 find me friend I'll have it cut off and brought 
 around to you. It all costs five cents a yard 
 excepting the pink one over yonder, but I'm 
 thinking the pink is just suited to yer complex-
 
 314 With the Best Intention 
 
 ion. Say, Greenspan, have ye any idea what 
 that loafer charges for the pink stuff?" 
 
 Greenspan shook his head. "I only know 
 der price uf fruits, not muslins," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Kaminsky decided to take ten yards of 
 the pink roll, and the policeman, after looking 
 in vain for Lapidowitz 's yard-stick, used his 
 own night-stick to measure the muslin. 
 
 "It's lucky I know the length of me club !" he 
 remarked, with a grin. Mrs. Kaminsky was 
 filled with admiration for a policeman who 
 would take so much trouble to oblige a friend, 
 while Greenspan's countenance betrayed a mix- 
 ture of expressions that no psychologist could 
 have analysed. Policeman Garrity then went 
 to the coffee-house around the comer. There, 
 as he had expected, sat Lapidowitz, with his 
 silk hat tilted upon the back of his head, calmly 
 sipping his coffee. The policeman whistled, 
 and Lapidowitz, with a sinking heart, came out 
 of the coffee-house. His suspicions, however, 
 quickly vanished at the sight of the policeman's 
 smiling face. 
 
 "Sh!" said Garrity. "I've got something 
 for ye, but I don't want anybody to see me give 
 it to ye. Step into the hallway here." 
 
 Lapidowitz accompanied his partner into an
 
 And then came Friday, the gala day of the Ghetto, and business 
 poured in with a rush
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 315 
 
 adjoining hallway where no prying eyes could 
 look on. An instant later the schnorrer came 
 flying out with an exclamation that sounded like 
 a yelp of pain and ran all the way to his push- 
 cart, where, shortly afterward, Policeman Gar- 
 rity found him rubbing the back of his head. 
 The policeman grinned. 
 
 "Lapidowitz," he said genially, " friends is 
 friends, but partners is partners, and business 
 is business. Remember I trust ye !" 
 
 For the next few days Lapidowitz remained 
 true to his trust. Business continued poor, 
 and the prospect of private piano lessons for 
 his daughter became somewhat dimmer. Lapi- 
 dowitz felt that he would be content with a 
 house up-town. He was even willing to forego 
 the automobile. And then came Friday, the 
 gala day of the Ghetto, and business poured in 
 with a rush. All day long customers stood 
 around Lapidowitz's stand, and his hand be- 
 came weary from cutting muslin; but he was 
 happy, because his pockets were fairly jingling 
 with money. At regular intervals Policeman 
 Garrity came by and every pedlar had to move 
 his stand a few feet, excepting Lapidowitz, who 
 felt himself above the law. As a matter of 
 fact, Lapidowitz was too busy to move, and the
 
 316 With the Best Intention 
 
 approving nod that greeted him whenever he 
 happened to catch the policeman's eye assured 
 him that he was pursuing the proper course. 
 Toward dusk business began to slack, and at 
 about the same time Policeman Garrity disap- 
 peared from his beat. 
 
 Lapidowitz began to count his money, and, 
 as he did so, a feeling of foreboding gradually 
 settled upon him. There had been no agree- 
 ment as to the financial conduct of the partner- 
 ship, and Lapidowitz wondered how much the 
 policeman intended to take out of the day's 
 profits to reimburse himself for the cost of the 
 stand. Slowly his wonder changed to a sensa- 
 tion of dread. To provide against any dire 
 contingency Lapidowitz took a two-dollar bill 
 from his hoard and put it into an inside coat 
 pocket. He then divided his money into two 
 equal parts, placing each part in a separate 
 pocket. As he jingled these two pockets and 
 thought of the violent temper of his partner 
 he became distressed. There was no telling 
 what an Irish policeman might do. After care- 
 fully pondering over all the possibilities of the 
 situation Lapidowitz abstracted a dollar from 
 each of the two equal shares and tucked the 
 money into his shoe. He was still in a stoop-
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 317 
 
 ing posture when, looking up, he beheld Gar- 
 rity, in civilian dress, approaching the stand. 
 
 "Let's call it a day," said the policeman. 
 "I'll go with ye to the stable." 
 
 "Maybe ve better go around der corner to 
 der coffee-house," suggested Lapidowitz, "unt 
 fix up der money." 
 
 "Nix on the coffee-house," said Garrity. 
 "We'll go to the stable." 
 
 And to the stable they went, Lapidowitz 
 pushing the cart close to the curb and the po- 
 liceman strolling along the sidewalk, chatting 
 amiably with his partner. 
 
 "You didn't ask yet how much iss it," said 
 Lapidowitz, smiling. 
 
 "Don't worry," answered the policeman. 
 "I'll find out." 
 
 The smile vanished from the schnorrer 's face. 
 When they were inside the stable Garrity shut 
 and locked the door. 
 
 "Now, me boy," he said cheerfully, "how 
 much did ye take in? No monkey business!" 
 
 Lapidowitz dived into his pockets and pro- 
 duced two handfuls of money. 
 
 "I haf divided it in two parts, halluf unt 
 halluf," he said. The policeman took both 
 parts and carefully counted them. Then, de-
 
 318 With the Best Intention 
 
 positing the money upon the floor, he held Lapi- 
 dowitz by the arm with one hand while, with 
 the other, he proceeded to investigate the con- 
 tents of Lapidowitz's pockets. The sehnor- 
 rer's mouth opened wide, but between fear and 
 rage his tongue seemed paralysed, and he could 
 not utter a word. Through his experience in 
 searching the pockets of prisoners the police- 
 man had acquired considerable dexterity, and, 
 to Lapidowitz's guilty mind, it seemed as if 
 some unerring instinct were guiding his hand 
 toward that inside coat pocket. Surely enough 
 Garrity found the coat pocket and found the 
 two dollars hidden there. He threw the money 
 upon the heap on the floor, winked gravely at 
 Lapidowitz and proceeded with his search. 
 
 "Dot's all!" said Lapidowitz faintly. 
 
 The policeman smiled. 
 
 "I forgot about dot two dollars," said Lapi- 
 dowitz. 
 
 "Sure ye did!" said Garrity. "Now take 
 yer shoes off, and let's see if ye forgot any 
 more." 
 
 Lapidowitz gazed at the policeman appeal- 
 ingly, looked around the stable to see if per- 
 chance there was an avenue of escape, and then,
 
 Lapidowitz 's Partner 319 
 
 with a heavy sigh, took off his shoe and handed 
 the policeman the rest of the money. 
 
 Garrity proceeded to count the proceeds of 
 the day's business and then handed Lapidowitz 
 a dollar. 
 
 "Now, partner," he said, quite cheerfully, 
 "I'm going to give you a dollar a day to keep 
 you going. The rest of the money I'll hold 
 until the push-cart and the goods are paid for. 
 After that maybe I'll give ye a little more, but 
 I'm going to be banker for the firm, and if we're 
 going to start a store I'd better be saving 
 money for the firm. You know you can trust 
 me, and I guess I know how far I can trust you, 
 but the man who got the best of Michael Garrity 
 doesn't live." Then, clutching Lapidowitz 
 firmly by the beard, but still smiling, he hissed, 
 " Beware, Clarence Lapidowitz! Beware, ye 
 black-livered spalpeen ! ' ' 
 
 When he had gone Lapidowitz almost col- 
 lapsed. The schnorrer had never before heard 
 such a fierce warning, nor was he perfectly clear 
 as to its meaning, but it seemed to imply, to 
 him, some horrible threat. The result was 
 that during the next week, he attended consci- 
 entiously to his push-cart, and, with the excep-
 
 320 With the Best Intention 
 
 tion of a few stolen visits to the coffee-house, 
 did nothing to incur the displeasure of his part- 
 ner. And each day he handed him the exact 
 proceeds of the day's sales, deducting only what 
 he had surreptitiously spent for coffee and ci- 
 gars and Kirschwasser. The idea of private 
 piano lessons for his daughter he gave up en- 
 tirely. Nor was he so keen on the house up- 
 town and the automobile as he had been in the 
 beginning. A store with an assistant to do the 
 work, and, perhaps, a tenement or two down- 
 town whose rents he would collect himself, com- 
 prised the sum total of his ambition. And, to 
 this end, he actually worked diligently through- 
 out the first five days of the week. But when 
 Friday came again and business grew brisk and 
 the money seemed to pour in Lapidowitz was 
 unable to resist temptation. Toward the close 
 of the day's work he handed five dollars to 
 Greenspan. 
 
 "I ask you as der greatest favour," he said, 
 imploringly, "to keep dis money for me till to- 
 morrow. I come by your house to get it. Der 
 money iss sacred, holy money vot belongs to 
 my poor sister in Eussia. Tint next week I 
 guess I can pay you der two dollars. ' ' 
 
 The one-eyed pedlar pocketed the money
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 321 
 
 without a word. Presently, however, "It iss a 
 year dot you owe me two dollars," he said. 
 
 ' ' I know it, ' ' replied Lapidowitz. * * Only vun 
 veek you got to wait. ' ' 
 
 "A veek? V'y should I vait a week ven I 
 got it in my pocket?'* retorted Greenspan. 
 Lapidowitz felt a sinking sensation in his heart, 
 and af that moment Garrity came in sight, in 
 civilian dress, as before. 
 
 "Can I keep der two dollars?" asked Green- 
 span. 
 
 1 ' Sh-h-h ! Don 't talk about it now. ' ' 
 
 "But can I keep it?" persisted the one-eyed 
 pedlar. Garrity was close beside them now. 
 
 "Yes. Keep it!" hissed Lapidowitz. 
 
 Greenspan, delighted to recover his money, 
 drew a roll of bills from his pocket and counted 
 out three dollars. "Here iss der change," he 
 said, handing the money to Lapidowitz. If a 
 glance could have annihilated Greenspan, his 
 existence would have come to an end at that 
 moment. 
 
 "What's that for?" asked Garrity, who was 
 chewing the end of an unlighted cigar. 
 
 "It's for his poor sister in Russia," explained 
 Greenspan. Lapidowitz's face was a study. 
 
 "Better take it, Lapidowitz," said the police-
 
 322 With the Best Intention 
 
 man, good-naturedly. "Take everything you 
 can get." 
 
 Lapidowitz pocketed the money. 
 
 "What's the other money for?" the police- 
 man then asked. "I heard you saying, 'Here's 
 the change.' " 
 
 "He gif me five dollars," explained Green- 
 span glibly. "But he owes me two dollars, so 
 now he vants to pay me back." 
 
 * * Oh, I see, ' ' said Garrity, scratching his chin. 
 "Well, you're a lucky man to get your money 
 back, Greenspan. Come on, Lapidowitz. Let's 
 close up shop and go to the stable." 
 
 On the way to the stable Lapidowitz looked 
 at the policeman many times as if he were about 
 to speak to him, but the grim expression of Gar- 
 rity's countenance froze all speech on Lapido- 
 witz 's lips. Arrived at the stable, the police- 
 man relieved Lapidowitz of the day's receipts. 
 He then made him take his shoes off and his 
 coat and vest, and these he carefully searched, 
 humming the while a merry tune. 
 
 "So ye tried to hold out on me again," he 
 said, quite cheerfully. Lapidowitz was too 
 crestfallen to reply. And then, with the swift- 
 ness of lightning, the policeman's arm shot out,
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 323 
 
 and his fist landed plump upon Lapidowitz's 
 eye. 
 
 "The partnership's off!" was all he said, 
 and hastened out of the stable. 
 
 ' ' Loafer ! ' ' cried Lapidowitz. ' * I tell der po- 
 lice captain! I haf you locked up right 
 away ! ' ' 
 
 He hastened to the station house and, point- 
 ing to his discoloured eye, lodged a complaint 
 against the policeman. The story that he told 
 amazed the captain. 
 
 "Garrity your partner?" he cried. "In a 
 push-cart ? I never heard the like of it. Lieu- 
 tenant, send around for Garrity. He'll be 
 home for supper about this time." 
 
 Garrity, the picture of innocence, came in 
 company with his brother-in-law, McCarthy. 
 
 "What's this about your owning a push-cart 
 stand?" asked the captain. 
 
 "Who? Me? Me brother-in-law McCarthy 
 owns one. Not me. Why, that chap there 
 works for him! Hello, Lapidowitz! Where 
 did ye get the shiner?" 
 
 It was all said in a tone of the most con- 
 vincing innocence. 
 
 "I guess he's just sore, Captain," explained
 
 324 With the Best Intention 
 
 McCarthy, "because I fired him to-night. He 
 was holding out on me. I'm thinking of get- 
 ting out a warrant for his arrest. 
 
 Lapidowitz began to feel bewildered. 
 
 "Were there any witnesses to the assault?" 
 the captain asked. Lapidowitz gazed at him 
 blankly. ' l Witnesses ? " he repeated, in a dazed 
 manner. 
 
 "Yes. Did any one see Garrity hit you?" 
 
 "Me hit him?" cried Garrity. "Why, the 
 man must be crazy. I guess, Mac" this to his 
 brother-in-law "you'd better get out that war- 
 rant and have him locked up. That pedlar 
 Greenspan told me how he was holding out on 
 you." Then, swiftly, he turned upon Lapido- 
 witz. "Do you mean to say I hit you?" he 
 roared, in thunderous tones. Lapidowitz 
 turned pale. "N-n-no!" he stammered. 
 
 "I guess you'd better go home," said the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 It was several days before Lapidowitz reap- 
 peared in Milken's cafe with a bluish-greenish- 
 yellowish eye and a story of an open door in a 
 dark room. 
 
 "I hear you got a push-cart," said Milken. 
 "You should get rich by it. Dot's how Harris 
 commenced, unt look vot he's got now! A
 
 Lapidowitz's Partner 325 
 
 house up-town lint tenements unt a automobile, 
 unt his daughter gets piano lessons private. " 
 
 Lapidowitz rose and strode out of the cafe, 
 slamming the door behind him.
 
 XVI 
 "Ich Gebibble" 
 
 WHOSOEVEE lives unmarried, lives 
 without joy, without comfort, without 
 blessing ! 
 
 So sayeth the Talmud, and the Talmud ought 
 to know. There may be those who would dis- 
 pute this proposition, but far be it from me to 
 be among them. I merely transcribe the 
 events as they happened. 
 
 Mr. Zabriskie had been gathered in the 
 bosom of Abraham, and his widow sat in the 
 shop of Brodsky, the shoemaker, wondering 
 what she would do next. Brodsky 's shop was 
 in the basement, and the widow Zabriskie 
 owned the house. Mrs. Zabriskie did all her 
 wondering aloud. 
 
 "A woman has got to marry," she said 
 finally, " that's all there is about it!" 
 
 Brodsky patched away at a sole-and-heel job. 
 
 "I know I ain't young any more and I ain't 
 as good-looking as I used to be. But I guess 
 I'd be better off if I got married again." 
 
 326
 
 '"Ich Gebibble" 327 
 
 Brodsky took a peg out of his mouth and 
 hammered it into the shoe. 
 
 "Why don't you go to Samuels, the 
 schatchen ? " he asked. ' * He can'fix it for you. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Zabriskie rose, smoothed the folds of 
 her dress, and started for the door. 
 
 "I did!" she said. "But he's so busy." 
 
 The scene changes. (This idea of changing 
 scenes is one of the consoling makeshifts of lit- 
 erature.) Samuels, the schatchen, sat in Milk- 
 en's cafe, a picture of prosperity. His shin- 
 ing silk hat looked prosperous, his pink cheeks 
 looked prosperous, his clothes looked prosper- 
 ous his diamond ring and diamond scarf-pin 
 fairly radiated prosperity. The waiter waited 
 upon him as a waiter waits upon a prosperous 
 man. Then Bernstein entered the cafe and, with 
 a weary air, seated himself at Samuel's table. 
 Bernstein was also a schatchen but not a pros- 
 perous one. Every one knew that Bernstein 
 was, by far, the shrewder of the two, but 
 whereas Samuels possessed the real match- 
 making faculty and could talk diffident maid- 
 ens and reluctant youths into taking the matri- 
 monial plunge, Bernstein's arguments never 
 seemed to be quite as eif ective.
 
 328 With the Best Intention 
 
 1 1 How's business!" he asked Samuels. The 
 prosperous schatchen handed him a ten-cent 
 cigar, lit a match so that the light fell upon his 
 diamond ring and made it sparkle, and yawned 
 a wonderfully prosperous yawn. 
 
 "I have so much to do," he replied, "that I 
 don't know where to begin. I hardly get any 
 sleep. Everybody wants to get married, and 
 hardly a day goes by without my making three 
 or four parties. And you know what that 
 means. ' ' 
 
 Bernstein sighed. He knew what that 
 meant. 
 
 "I don't know why it is," he said, "but I 
 haven't had any business for two weeks. It's 
 funny how it goes. You're busy and I haven't 
 a thing to do." 
 
 He hesitated for a moment and then added, 
 "If, maybe, you got any case you don't want 
 if you're too busy you might give me a 
 chance. ' ' 
 
 Samuels nodded good-naturedly and then 
 leaned back in his chair prosperously and 
 stared prosperously at the ceiling. Suddenly 
 he began to smile. 
 
 "I'll tell you where you can get a case," he 
 said. "That Zabriskie widow wants to get
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 329 
 
 married again. She came to me, but, you 
 know! Such a face! And she's over forty. 
 But she's got lots of money. If I didn't have 
 so much business I'd see what I could do for 
 her, but I'd be afraid, just now, to send any of 
 my parties to see her. Maybe, if you got noth- 
 ing else to do you could find a party for her." 
 
 Bernstein grunted. 
 
 "The widow Zabriskie! Who'd marry her? 
 Give me something easier." 
 
 Samuels looked at his watch, yawned pros- 
 perously again and said he had to return to 
 his work. Bernstein remained sitting alone 
 until he saw Lapidowitz, the schnorrer, enter 
 the cafe. 
 
 " Hello, Lapidowitz!" he cried. "Let's 
 play a game of cards. ' ' 
 
 "Sure," said Lapidowitz. U I got nothing 
 to do." 
 
 Lapidowitz, by the way, never had anything 
 to do. They played for nearly an hour when 
 Bernstein suddenly laid down his cards and 
 stared at the schnorrer. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Lapidowitz. 
 
 "H'm! I got an idea!" said the schatchen. 
 "Will you wait here an hour until I come 
 back? Maybe you can make some money."
 
 330 With the Best Intention 
 
 "I will wait a year if I can make money," 
 said Lapidowitz. 
 
 The scene changes. 
 
 Mrs. Zabriskie answered the door-bell her- 
 self, and Bernstein gazed at her critically, and 
 shuddered. 
 
 "I'm Bernstein, the schatchen," he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "My friend Samuels told me he is too busy 
 to take your case and wants me to take it. Of 
 course I'm very busy myself, but I'm always 
 successful. So if you and me can make good 
 arrangements I think I can get a party for 
 you. ' ' 
 
 "Come inside!" said the widow. Bernstein 
 listened patiently to her description of her 
 good qualities and her estimate of her desira- 
 bility. When she had finished he looked her 
 frankly in the face. 
 
 "Mrs. Zabriskie," he said, "you ain't a 
 young chicken and I ain't a young chicken. So 
 let's get down to business. If you was a 
 young girl I 'd say, ' Sure ! ' and go right ahead. 
 But when a lady is past er thirty-five (Mrs. 
 Zabriskie nodded approvingly) the case is dif- 
 ferent. A schatchen can get you engaged but
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 331 
 
 he can't make a man marry you. It's like a 
 liorse. You can take him by the water but you 
 can't make him drink. Now if I get you a 
 good, nice-looking party who will get engaged 
 to you and take you out and spend a lot of time 
 with you, you ought to be able to do the rest 
 yourself. ' ' 
 
 ''What do you mean by the rest!" asked the 
 widow. 
 
 "Oh, make him marry you when the time 
 comes. You see, you're one of those ladies 
 who improve on acquaintance, and if he gets to 
 know you he's sure to fall in love with you. 
 Now I'll guarantee that my party will stay en- 
 gaged to you for two months. That ought to 
 be long enough. At the end of two months you 
 give me two hundred dollars. I consider that 
 very cheap. If you can't make him marry you 
 by that time it won't be my fault. So what do 
 vou say!" 
 
 s / 
 
 The widow, with her lips pressed tightly 
 together, nodded her head a great many 
 times. 
 
 "I guess it's good," said she. "Maybe 
 after two months I don't want to marry him. 
 But if I do I guess it '11 be all right. ' ' 
 
 The contract was then put in writing, and
 
 332 With the Best Intention 
 
 both signed it, after which the widow poured 
 out a glass of Madeira for the schatehen. 
 
 The scene changes. 
 
 Bernstein found Lapidowitz playing soli- 
 taire. He seated himself opposite the schnor- 
 rer, gazed at him long and intently. 
 
 1 i Listen, Lapidowitz,' said he. "I have 
 something good for you. Do you know Mrs. 
 Zabriskie?" 
 
 "The widow who owns the house where 
 Brodsky's shoe shop is?" 
 
 The schatchen nodded. 
 
 "No. I don't know her to speak to. I've 
 often seen her. She's homely!" 
 
 "Do you think she knows you at all?" asked 
 Bernstein. 
 
 Lapidowitz shook his head. 
 
 "I guess not. I don't think she ever noticed 
 me. Why!" 
 
 "Now listen to me. She wants me to get 
 her a husband. Sit still! Don't get up! But 
 I told her it was a hard job and now she's sat- 
 isfied if I get her a party who becomes engaged 
 to her for two months. She thinks by the end 
 .of that time she could make a man fall in love 
 with her. Now here's my idea: if you get en-
 
 "Ick Gebibble" 333 
 
 gaged to her for two months I'll give you fifty 
 dollars! D'ye see? If you marry her or not 
 that's none of my business. All you got to 
 do is to get engaged. I'll tell her you're out of 
 work so if she wants you to take her out any- 
 where she's got to pay everything herself. It 
 won't cost you a cent. You never made fifty 
 dollars so easy in all your life." 
 
 Lapidowitz pondered over the matter for 
 several minutes. 
 
 " Couldn't you make it a month?" he asked. 
 "Two months is such a long time." 
 
 "It's got to be two months," said Bernstein. 
 "But maybe, once in a while, you got impor- 
 tant business in Cincinnati or some place, and 
 you can get a few days off." 
 
 "It ain't a bad idea!" said Lapidowitz re- 
 flectively. "I guess I take it. Only I couldn't 
 go without a new silk hat and a nice new coat. ' ' 
 
 "You got right," he said. "You look 
 shabby. I'll get you a new hat, but clothes 
 cost too much. I got a frock coat home what's 
 as good as new, and I guess it'll fit you all 
 right." 
 
 As soon as Lapidowitz had been arrayed in 
 his new silk hat and borrowed coat Bernstein 
 took him to call upon Mrs. Zabriskie. The
 
 334 With the Best Intention 
 
 widow gazed at the schnorrer and smiled. 
 Lapidowitz was not at all bad-looking, and his 
 new raiment gave him quite a distinguished 
 air. When the widow smiled, however, he 
 clutched Bernstein by the coat as if he feared 
 the schatchen were about to run off and leave 
 him. 
 
 "This, Mrs. Zabriskie, is my friend Lapido- 
 witz. Ain't he a fine looking man! Of course 
 he's hard up, but that don't make any differ- 
 ence to a rich lady like you. Some day, I bet 
 he'll be a rich man. Now you can both shake 
 hands and be engaged for two months. I'll 
 go and put it in the Yiddish papers. Ah, Lap- 
 idowitz, I bet you're beginning to all in love 
 already!" 
 
 He shook his finger roguishly at the schnor- 
 rer as he said this, and Mrs. Zabriskie sim- 
 pered like a young girl. Lapidowitz, however, 
 turned red. 
 
 "You ain't going away now, are you!" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Sure!" said the schatchen. "I leave you 
 two to get acquainted, and besides, people who 
 are engaged should be left alone!" 
 
 Lapidowitz gazed long and yearningly at the 
 door after Bernstein had departed.
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 335 
 
 "Let's go down to the basement," said Mrs. 
 Zabriskie. "I want to introduce you to Mr. 
 Brodsky. He's the first one I want to tell that 
 I'm engaged." 
 
 "Sure," said Lapidowitz, glad of a chance 
 to introduce a third person into the situation. 
 * ' I know Brodsky well. ' ' 
 
 Brodsky 's countenance did not change a 
 shade when the news was broken to him. He 
 looked at the widow and he looked at Lapido- 
 witz. Then he hammered a peg into a shoe. 
 
 "That's good!" he said. 
 
 The scene changes. Bernstein sat in Milk- 
 en's cafe, his customary lounging place, enter- 
 ing in his note-book an item of four dollars 
 that he had paid for Lapidowitz 's new silk hat. 
 He also made an entry upon another page, as 
 if it were a tentative matter, of fifty dollars 
 that he was to pay to Lapidowitz at the end of 
 two months. In Bernstein's system of book- 
 keeping there was always a sharp division be- 
 tween money that had actually been spent and 
 money that he had promised to spend. A 
 shadow fell across his note-book, and he looked 
 up into the face of Lapidowitz. 
 
 "You didn't stay long!" said the schatchen.
 
 336 With the Best Intention 
 
 "Long enough!" replied Lapidowitz. 
 "Now, about that fifty dollar business. I wish 
 you would give me a note for it so I can collect 
 it in two months." 
 
 "A note?" repeated Bernstein. "Ain't my 
 word good?" 
 
 "Sure it is!" said Lapidowitz. "Only a 
 note is better. If I don't stay engaged for two 
 months, of course you don't have to pay the 
 note. But if I keep the contract, then I won't 
 have to ask you for the money." 
 
 Bernstein attempted to argue the matter but 
 Lapidowitz was obdurate. No note, no en- 
 gagement. Bernstein gave him a note for fifty 
 dollars payable in two months. 
 
 "We go to the theatre to-morrow night," 
 said Lapidowitz. "Would you like to come 
 along? I can make her get three tickets." 
 
 "I can't!" exclaimed Bernstein hastily. "I 
 never go to theatre." 
 
 "All right," said the schnorrer. "Only one 
 thing I nearly forgot to tell you. If you ever 
 see us together, don't make any more foolish 
 remarks about my falling in love with her. It 
 gives me a pain." 
 
 After the theatre, Lapidowitz and his fian-
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 337 
 
 cee supped in a Grand Street restaurant. 
 Lapidowitz had been absorbed in the play and 
 had given but scant attention to his compan- 
 ion. Now as they sat in the restaurant, he sud- 
 denly took her hand in his and pressed it ten- 
 derly. The widow beamed upon him. 
 
 "You know what Bernstein said about my 
 being hard up, don't you?" he asked. Mrs. 
 Zabriskie nodded. 
 
 "Well, I am! I ain't got a cent. Maybe if 
 you could spare a little money oh, say fifty 
 dollars ! as soon as we get married I can pay 
 it back." 
 
 The widow opened her reticule and drew out 
 a bundle of bank-notes that made Lapidowitz 's 
 heart leap with joy. With great care, she re- 
 moved a dollar bill from the roll and handed it 
 to the schnorrer with a smile. 
 
 "You got to have some money, anyhow," she 
 said. "You don't got to pay it back." 
 
 "I said fifty!" said Lapidowitz, gazing at 
 her with a smile that was meant to be propiti- 
 ating. 
 
 "I know it," said she. "But don't be fool- 
 ish." 
 
 Lapidowitz 's lips moved in silent curses
 
 338 With the Best Intention 
 
 upon all women in general and the widow Za- 
 briskie in particular. He began to weary of 
 his engagement. 
 
 The next day he found Bernstein at his cus- 
 tomary table in Milken's cafe. 
 
 I 'I guess I give it up!" he said. 
 
 "What's the matter!" asked the schat- 
 chen. 
 
 "I ain't got a cent," said Lapidowitz. "I 
 got to have five dollars a week to live on, don't 
 If Well, I know where I can get a job. So 
 you get somebody else to be engaged to that 
 stingy old fool." 
 
 II Can't you take the job and be engaged, too! 
 It's only two months. And you get fifty dol- 
 lars, you know ! ' ' 
 
 "Be engaged and work, too?" exclaimed 
 Lapidowitz. "Huh! Never! If I work, I 
 work, and if I'm engaged, I'm engaged. One 
 thing at a time. ' ' 
 
 Bernstein made a swift mental calculation. 
 Eight weeks at five dollars a week would amount 
 to forty dollars. The four dollars that he had 
 paid for the silk hat and the fifty dollars for 
 which he had given a note would bring the to- 
 tal expense of providing a fiance for the widow 
 to ninety-four dollars. That, however, would
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 339 
 
 still leave him a profit of one hundred and six 
 dollars, which, considering that it involved no 
 labour of his own, was not so bad. 
 
 He made a feeble attempt to induce Lapido- 
 witz to accept five dollars a week on account of 
 the fifty. 
 
 "It don't cost you nothing," he explained. 
 "I support you for eight weeks by giving you 
 five dollars every week. You got a fine, new 
 silk hat out of me. The lady will take you to 
 the theatre and to the restaurants, and you will 
 have a good time. And, in the end you will 
 get six dollars more." 
 
 Lapidowitz gazed at him scornfully. 
 
 "I didn't think, Mr. Bernstein," he said, 
 "that I was doing business with a cheap man. 
 I don't get any profit just by keeping alive, do 
 I ! And I need five dollars a week to keep me 
 alive. And you don't think I'd get engaged 
 to that old thing for six dollars, do you! I 
 know it's a fine hat, but " He took off the 
 hat and looked at it, lovingly. "I needed a 
 new hat," he concluded. 
 
 Bernstein saw that it was useless to strug- 
 gle. He handed him five dollars. 
 
 "All right, Lapidowitz," he said. "You 
 stick to the engagement, and I'll give you five
 
 340 With the Best Intention 
 
 dollars every week. Only I think you're a 
 loafer and a thief." 
 
 "What you think," said Lapidowitz airily, 
 "don't bother me at all." 
 
 For four weeks Lapidowitz remained en- 
 gaged to the Widow Zabriskie. For four 
 weeks he accompanied her everywhere and, 
 whenever he failed to find an excuse for avoid- 
 ing it, spent the evenings in her parlour. 
 
 Frequently he induced the widow to include 
 Mr. Brodsky, the shoemaker, in their party, 
 knowing that, with Mr. Brodsky present, the 
 widow would, at least, refrain from holding his 
 hand and would not expect any tender ad- 
 vances from him. One night, however, Mr. 
 Brodsky went to his lodge, and Lapidowitz 
 found himself alone with his fiancee. It was a 
 rainy night and it seemed to Lapidowitz that 
 the widow felt sentimental. 
 
 "Just think," she exclaimed. "In one more 
 month we will be married ! ' ' 
 
 Lapidowitz felt a shudder creep down his 
 spine. 
 
 "A month," he said quickly, "is soon gone. 
 Let's wait a while before we begin talking 
 about it."
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 341 
 
 "Where will we go on our honeymoon!" she 
 asked coyly. 
 "Honeymoon?" repeated Lapidowitz blank- 
 
 ly. 
 
 "Sure! When you get married you got to 
 travel somewhere on a honeymoon. When I 
 got married before we went to Niagara Falls." 
 
 "Oh, I've often been there," said Lapido- 
 witz. "I got a better place in mind. But we 
 won't talk about it until next month. I got to 
 go now. I got a friend who is terrible sick and 
 he's all alone. He hasn't even a doctor. So 
 I got to stay with him to-night. I'll come to- 
 morrow. ' ' 
 
 The widow accompanied him to the door. 
 
 "You got such a good heart!" she said. 
 "You can kiss me if you want to." 
 
 Lapidowitz stared into her upturned counte- 
 nance, shut his eyes and kissed her upon the 
 cheek. The next moment he fled down the 
 stairs. He found Bernstein playing cards in 
 Milken's cafe and drew him aside. 
 
 "She's talking about getting married," he 
 said gloomily. 
 
 "Well, what of it! That's in the agree- 
 ment, ain't it? She can talk about anything
 
 342 With the Best Intention 
 
 she likes, can't she? You don't got to marry 
 her. All you got to do is to be engaged for 
 four weeks more. Didn't I told you that a 
 hundred times?" 
 
 1 'I can't do it!" said Lapidowitz, shaking his 
 head. "I just can't do it. She made me kiss 
 her to-night. Five dollars a week and fifty 
 dollars for the whole job ain't worth it." 
 
 Bernstein felt a sinking sensation in his 
 heart. 
 
 "Lapidowitz," he said earnestly, "are you a 
 gentleman or a loafer? Answer me once." 
 
 Lapidowitz grinned. 
 
 "Last time," he answered, "you said it 
 yourself I was a loafer." 
 
 Bernstein realised that it was useless to ap- 
 peal to the schnorrer's finer instincts, for the 
 simple reason that he hadn't any. 
 
 "How much?" he asked. "Make it low or 
 you don't get a cent!" 
 
 "Twenty-five dollars," said Lapidowitz 
 glibly. Bernstein indulged himself in the lux- 
 ury of telling Lapidowitz clearly and forcibly 
 and luxuriantly exactly what he thought of 
 him. Milken, the proprietor, came forward 
 and begged him to moderate his language and 
 his tone. In conclusion Bernstein offered to
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 343 
 
 compromise on ten dollars. This time, how- 
 ever, Lapidowitz rose to the occasion. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Bernstein, " he said, se- 
 renely. "A thief I am and a bum I am and a 
 dirty dog I am and everything else what you 
 said, I am. And maybe I will rot in my grave 
 like you say and maybe I won't. But I take 
 back what I said about twenty-five dollars and 
 if I don't get forty on the spot, you and your 
 old widow and your engagement business can 
 go and bust up in the air. I said it and, what's 
 more, I mean it. When a man gets insulted he 
 ought to get paid. Now do I get it or ain't 
 it?" 
 
 He got it! It took but a moment's thought 
 for the schatchen to realise that unless he gave 
 the schnorrer the money, he would lose all that 
 he had hitherto given him. He apologised for 
 his harsh epithets, he appealed to Lapidowitz 's 
 generosity and he begged him to stick to the 
 original twenty-five that he had demanded. 
 But Lapidowitz stood firm and, in the end, re- 
 ceived the forty dollars. 
 
 "I hope it learns you a lesson!" he said in 
 parting. 
 
 It did. It taught Bernstein that whenever 
 the schnorrer came to him for money he had to
 
 344 With the Best Intention 
 
 give it. If the engagement were broken Bern- 
 stein knew he would lose everything. And 
 gradually his investment in the Widow Zabris- 
 kie's engagement grew greater and greater. 
 In addition to the silk hat and the five dollars 
 every week and the forty dollars, Lapidowitz 
 borrowed more money from the unfortunate 
 schatchen. One day it was a new shirt that he 
 needed, another it was his rent and then again 
 it was merely because he hadn't a cent and 
 wanted some money in his pocket. 
 
 And Bernstein had to give. At the end of 
 the seventh week Lapidowitz had received $150 
 from the schatchen. Of course most of it was 
 obtained under the guise of a loan, but Bern- 
 stein had a perfectly clear idea of his chances 
 of ever being repaid. 
 
 In the meantime, Lapidowitz had fulfilled his 
 part of the contract to the extent, at least, of 
 telling all the Ghetto that he was engaged to 
 marry the Widow Zabriskie, of calling at her 
 house nearly every day, and of taking her to 
 theatre, to the restaurants, and for drives 
 through Central Park the cost of all of which 
 was, of course, defrayed by the lady. The 
 widow, herself, seemed perfectly contented 
 with the situation. To have as good-looking a
 
 "Ich Gebibble" 345 
 
 chap as Lapidowitz dangling after her, to be 
 able to hold his hand in public and, occasion- 
 ally, to have him bestow a kiss upon her, 
 seemed to be all that she desired. At the end 
 of the seventh week she celebrated her birth- 
 day. It was her fortieth, she said. 
 
 "It's a joke," said Lapidowitz. 
 
 "Don't you think I'm that old?" asked Mrs. 
 Zabriskie, coyly. Lapidowitz gazed upon her 
 countenance and turned away to hide a smile. 
 The widow threw her arms around his neck. 
 
 "Oh, you flatterer!" she cried, and kissed 
 him roundly a half dozen times. But she 
 would not lend him more than a dollar upon the 
 strength of it. Lapidowitz sought Bernstein 
 in Milken's cafe. 
 
 "Say," he began, drawing a note-book from 
 his pocket. "I wrote down the number of 
 times she kissed me. It's sixteen. We didn't 
 make any bargain about this kissing business, 
 and if I don't get a dollar for every kiss, I 
 chuck up the job." 
 
 Bernstein almost choked. 
 
 "Listen, Lapidowitz," he said, hoarsely. 
 "You got me in a tight place. I know you're 
 a a oh, never mind ! You know it as well as 
 I do." Lapidowitz nodded. "Now, I swear
 
 346 With the Best Intention 
 
 on my father's, grave all I get out of this job 
 is two hundred dollars. You got already a 
 hundred and fifty. Next week you get five dol- 
 lars because I promised it. That makes a hun- 
 dred and fifty-five. Now if I give you sixteen 
 more, it makes a hundred and seventy-one. 
 And I only get twenty-nine dollars profit out of 
 the whole job. Is that fair? Is it honest? Be- 
 tween man and man, I ask you, ain't it a dirty 
 trick?" 
 
 Lapidowitz stroked his beard long and 
 thoughtfully. Then he drew a pencil from his 
 pocket and began to figure in his note-book. 
 
 "Mr. Bernstein," he said, finally, "you have 
 been honest with me. I'll be honest with you. 
 Twenty-nine dollars is too much. Maybe you 
 don't think so, but you ain't engaged to that 
 widow. You give me the sixteen dollars for 
 the kisses. Then you give me nineteen dollars 
 more, and you don't have to give me the five 
 dollars next week. That will leave you twenty 
 dollars profit. That's enough. You didn't 
 have to do any of the work. I did it all and if 
 you don't believe it say, I'll tell you what I'll 
 do. You go around and kiss her, and I'll take 
 five dollars off. You told me I was a bum and 
 a thief and a loafer and a crook and a liar and
 
 "Ick Gebibble" 347 
 
 everything else, but if you don't like it, you 
 don't got to give me a cent. I'll give it up 
 right away. ' ' 
 
 Bernstein groaned and glared at Lapidowitz 
 with an expression that made the schnorrer 
 add hastily, ''Wait, before you speak. If you 
 get fresh I give up my job right now." 
 
 He won his point. Bernstein carefully went 
 over the figures and then handed Lapidowitz 
 thirty-five dollars. As the schnorrer left the 
 cafe Bernstein turned to Milken, the proprie- 
 tor. 
 
 "Next week," he said, "a business matter 
 between me and Mr. Lapidowitz will be fin- 
 ished. And then the first thing I'm going to 
 do is to give that schnorrer such a punch in the 
 nose as he never had in his life. ' ' 
 
 The scene changes and the time. The two 
 months had elapsed. Lapidowitz having care- 
 fully framed the sentences in which he intended 
 to tell the widow that he had changed his mind 
 about marrying her, rang the bell of her apart- 
 ment. A slatternly woman came to the door. 
 
 "It's Mr. Lapidowitz, ain't it?" she in- 
 quired. Lapidowitz admitted his identity. 
 
 "Here's a letter for you. Mrs. Zabriskie
 
 348 With the Best Intention 
 
 had to go away, and she told me to give it to 
 you." 
 
 "Dear, dear Mr. Lapidowitz," it ran, "I am 
 sorry if I break your heart, but I can't help it. 
 I discovered that I loved Mr. Brodsky better 
 than my own life, so we have gone off and got 
 married. We are going on a honeymoon to 
 Niagara Falls, and I hope when I come back 
 you will forgive me. I know you loved me, but 
 who can help what the heart does? If you see 
 Mr. Bernstein tell him I have sent him a check 
 and I am much obliged to him. I know you 
 will be unhappy, but some day, maybe, you will 
 get over it." 
 
 Lapidowitz walked off, frowning. Strange 
 to say, it was a cruel blow to his pride. But 
 soon his brow cleared, and he began to smile. 
 He was thinking of Bernstein, the schatchen. 
 "Ich gebibble," he chuckled. 
 
 THE END
 
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